Sometimes I Still Feel The Bruise
by blueandblack
Summary: Post-Eclipse. Bella sees Jacob again for the first time in three years. Jacob/Bella, some Edward/Bella. NOT anti-E/B or anti-Edward. Other characters feature, particularly Rosalie.
1. Chapter 1

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably about thirty seconds, I decided one of us really needed to say something. And it should probably be me, since I was the one suddenly standing in his doorway. I was the one wedging myself awkwardly back into his life.

His black hair was longer than it had ever been, and as tradition would have it, he was shirtless, shoeless, dressed only in a pair of faded black jeans. I noted that he looked like he hadn't shaved that morning and almost giggled at the thought of Jacob _shaving_. Thankfully, I was pretty sure my face stayed as expressionless as his was. His black eyes were locked on mine. I swallowed and half wondered why I hadn't prepared an opening.

"So... you still look like a total hippie. More so, even." I smiled. "Is it like... a _look_, Jake?"

He blinked twice in quick succession and then his eyes flickered downwards. He smiled at the carpet.

Before I was aware he had even moved, I was swept up in his arms, the tips of my sneakers just barely brushing the floor. Once my mind caught up with my body, I pushed into the embrace with an easy enthusiasm that felt like coming home.

_He was still so warm._

He pulled back, his hands resting on my upper arms. "Wow." he said simply, beaming down at me.

Before he could follow that up a phone rang somewhere behind him and he was gone.

"Can't you just move like a normal person?" I muttered under my breath. He was already talking to whoever called. "Everybody's got super-speed but me."

A tiny part of my mind couldn't help but follow a hurried conversation about... what? Sports? No. Cars, I think. Sports-cars? Female sports-cars? _What?_

Absently, I ran my hand along the top of the small IKEA bookcase directly to my right. The room was clean, but messy. There was _stuff_ everywhere. I ran my fingers along the bumpy edge of a tall pile of rather battered spiral-back notebooks. Something caught on my nail. I pulled and it pulled with me. Tights. Expensive ones. And good old accident-prone Bella had laddered them. I turned around guiltily to see if Jacob had noticed.

Wait a minute, _tights_. I wrenched them out from behind the books and smirked to myself.

Just then, Jake covered the receiver with his left hand and glanced over at me. "Hey do you want something to drink?" he asked.

I didn't answer that. Smiling knowingly, I held up the tights, letting them dangle from one crooked finger. "You're seeing someone?"

"I guess." he replied non-committally.

"Well don't sound too enthusiastic," I teased, but he didn't hear me.

"Yeah ok sure." he spoke into the receiver. "Right."

While he talked, something equal parts wonderful and terrifying started to build in the back of my mind.

"Right, definitely. I gotta go, man. Yeah." Jacob hung up.

I felt my eyes narrow as the thought finally occurred to me. "Oh my God. Jake. Did you... imprint on someone?" I asked, a trace of awe in my voice. I thought I saw his eyes shine briefly (with excitement?) at my words.

He smiled and shook his head. "No, Bells. I told you that's not going to happen."

I rolled my eyes. "Because you're just so different from every other member of the pack?"

He just stared at me for a moment, then shrugged. "Anyway no. No imprinting. I just have a lot of sex with a lot of women." he announced, turning away and walking the three short steps to the other corner of the tiny dorm room.

"Ah." I said, then filled an awkward pause with something along the lines of "Jacob Black, werewolf Casanova."

He grinned and flipped open an ancient mini-fridge. "Well I do seem to get a lot of action these days." He turned back to face me. "Maybe it is a wolf thing."

I snorted. "Yeah, I can't imagine what else it could be" I blurted out, instantly regretting the commentary and snapping my eyes away from his dark broad planes of his bare shoulders.

He smiled slowly and took a step towards me, the open fridge forgotten. "Well I'm not usually half-naked when I meet people. They tend not to let you into bars without a shirt and shoes."

"_Bars?_" I asked, a little too incredulously, mostly for something to say. I qualified with "I mean, do you have a fake ID or something? You're not even 21 yet."

He laughed a little at that. "What, you think I get carded Bella?"

With a weak smile I looked over at the wall on my left, mostly for somewhere to look. "I guess not." My eyes flickered down and found the bed before darting back to his. Things had suddenly become, well, dangerous, for want of a better word. There were only two steps between us and I knew how fast he could move. I thought about backing up, but then decided to concentrate on just breathing and trying to smile innocuously, willing him not to charge on me. And he didn't. He just turned back to the fridge and pulled out two cans of soda.

He walked casually forward holding one out for me. "Sorry, it's cold. Not quite like old times."

I smiled fondly, lost for a second in the memory of those horrible, beautiful months in La Push, sheltered in Jacob's garage, drinking warm soda and fixing up bikes.

And then I was in his arms and he _had_ charged and he _was_ kissing me. The sudden shock of his burning mouth on mine made it impossible to form thoughts. His huge hands pressed firmly into my lower back, dragging my stomach against his and the warmth of his body seemed to radiate out all over me, covering every inch of me, even the parts he wasn't touching. This was far worse than the hug in the doorway and for a second I panicked that he might never stop and that I might never be able to stop him. But then he was stopping, or slowing at least. His lips peeled gently away and his arms relaxed enough for me to move mine.

"What the fuck, Jacob!" I punched him lightly in the arm - there was no point in self-harm when he wasn't really going to feel it anyway.

He stepped back and laughed - "What the fuck, Bella!" - and flopped back onto the bed, grinning. "Since when do you say 'fuck'? You were always more of a 'Holy crow' kind of girl."

There was so much condescension in his voice and face, like he'd somehow forgotten that _I was the one who was older for God's sake._ I tried to smile dryly. "Maybe since you started _fucking_ a whole lot of girls?"

He smirked. "I never said I fucked them. Maybe we..." - he paused for effect - "... _make love._"

I rolled my eyes, more disgusted by the expression than anything else, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You know, you're even more clever and funny than I remembered." I said, my tone sarcastic. And then I laid back on the bed next to him and giggled a little.

"So I'm guessing you like it here?"

"I'm guessing I do."

I turned towards him on my side, studying his profile. "And you don't miss Billy and Sam and all the guys too much?" I wondered, well aware of the inanity of my question.

"How much is too much?" he asked.

"Maybe even a little bit is too much. Sometimes." I said quietly.

He turned on his side to face me, smiling far too innocently. "What do you want from me Bells?" The smile was just inches from laughter. "Another _cuddle?_"

Oh my God. _Oh my God._

I didn't need to say it out loud. I sat up abruptly, beyond irritated now and a little embarrassed. He laughed lightly.

After a moment he sat up, silently as always, but I could feel his weight shifting on the bed. "Hey" he said softly, and gently but firmly pulled me backwards and into his arms. Somehow it seemed silly to object, as though "Hey" was some kind of undeniably sensible argument for physical contact.

We lay in silence for a minute or two, feeling the mood change too rapidly. All of a sudden I was thinking of those dark moments I had spent in the water, so long ago now, when I had jumped off the cliff at La Push. When I hadn't been able to wait for him. For either of them. I could almost feel the thick, inevitable pull of the tide, completely in charge of my body, completely subduing my mind. I struggled to form a whisper against Jacob's chest.

"I'm still with him, you know."

"I know," he said quietly. And after a moment he added "You kind of stink, Bells."

I laughed softly and it hummed through his skin where my ear pressed against him.

"I'm sorry." I whispered sadly.

"It's cool, I'll just have to buy you some fancy french perfume for your birthday or something."

I laughed again, a little louder this time, and turned my face up to his chin. "No, I mean -"

"I know." He cut me off. "You're still alive. That'll do."

I didn't know what to say to that. I couldn't feel relief that my being alive soothed him, because I knew that it was still only a matter of time before I'd take that away from him too.

"Anyway, how could I _not_ know" he said quietly, reaching down and taking my left hand in his. He twisted the gold band on my third finger gently.

The waves curled around me, swimming through my paralyzed mind, building my blood steadily into a heavy wall of sound that cut out abruptly when he spoke.

"Anyway I heard you're at Dartmouth? Do you get back to Forks often? What are you doing here? What courses are you taking?"

I noticed that he sandwiched the difficult question in between the other relatively simple ones. I sighed and ordered my replies a little more logically. "Dartmouth, yes, Forks, probably not as often as I should, majoring in Psychology and..." I hesitated, not even quite sure what the truth was. "And I'm here because _we're_ here."

He squeezed my hand a little. "Oh. I thought maybe you missed me."

I swallowed. "Of course I missed you."

He was quiet for a moment, brought his other hand around and spread my left one out over both of his. Why were my fingers suddenly so interesting?

"So how the hell did you get into Dartmouth anyway?" he asked, just a little too incredulously.

"Uhhh... I'm a smart kid?" I replied in mock-annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah. So smart you could spend the whole of senior year running around with vampires and wolves and still ace finals. Bella's a geeeenius!" he teased.

"What?!" I exclaimed, wriggling around so we were lying facing each other. "I am. They turned me down at Mensa because they didn't want the other members to get a complex. Seriously."

He chuckled and pulled me into one of his violent hugs and I smiled. A proper, big, unguarded smile that he didn't get to see.

"So I'm a shrink-in-waiting. What are you taking?" I asked when he released me.

"I'm playing the field for now. History, philosophy, an introduction to the modern novel - "

"_You're_ taking _intro to the modern novel?_"

"Sure, why not," he smiled nonchalantly. "I'm actually taking a course on French symbolist poetry too."

I just gaped at him. "_Poetry,_ Jake? _Really?_"

He laughed at my open-mouthed stare. "Yes! _Really._" he replied. "In fact maybe I'm really into poetry. _Maybe_ I always have been Bells." He grinned wickedly. "_Maybe..._ I wrote tons and tons of angsty, miserable and like - " he laughed as he spoke " - _erotic_ poetry about _you_ when I was just a _kid_ and it's all hidden under the floorboards under by bed back in La Push, just waiting to be made public in a posthumous biogr-"

"Oh my God stop it!" I hissed, pushing crossly at his left shoulder. He smirked.

"Cos you know Bella, the way things are going, I guess you'll still be around to enjoy all the attention when I'm dead famous and well, dead. And I'll be looking down at you. Pointing and laughing. Kind of like this." He pulled away from me to extend a mocking forefinger and laughed exaggeratedly.

I yanked the pillow out from under his head and started hitting him with it. Futile little feathered blows, that only made him laugh more.

"And they'll have readings of my early work. _The Bella Swan years._ And you'll go and sit up the back and like, weep discreetly."

"SHUT UP!" I laughed despite myself.

"Oh dark rose of my love  
Who flowers in midni-

I shoved the pillow into his face and he ducked away, breathless with laughter.

"Caressing the hot molten core of my being  
With your wil-"

I squealed and covered my ears, turning away from him in horror and he grabbed me and pulled me back against his body, his arms crossing securely over my stomach. I could feel his chest shaking a little as his mirth subsided.

His hot mouth brushed my earlobe, the same way as it had done so long ago, outside a tent in a clearing in a now-distant forest, in a now-distant world. "Don't worry Bella," he whispered, "I promise, never ever to write a soulful, angst-ridden, erotic love poem about you. Ok?" I could _feel_ his lips curve into a smile.

My breath hitched and seemed to ripple through my body and then his. All I could do was echo him.

"Ok."


	2. Chapter 2

By the time I caught sight of him, huge and dark, framed against an acid blue sky, he was already laughing at me.

_Typical. Stupid obnoxious boy, man, wolf,_ whatever.

"I'm sorry Bella," he smiled as I stomped towards him, leaving sneaker-marks in the wet sand. "You just... you look so... hilarious."

"Thanks. You too." I glared at him.

"You do realize that 'meet me at the beach' doesn't carry quite the same dress code in California as it does in La Push," he explained, casting an amused eye over my faded jeans and the checked shirt I was pulling around myself.

_California. Right. Home of the sun._

It was midday and it was warm. Too warm. I was a fool. That didn't mean I had to admit it.

"Just because you like to be half-naked all the time, doesn't mean I have to." I snapped.

"Sure, sure," he said, ducking his head and looking back up at me with a small smile. "Too bad, huh?"

I pushed him forward with a sigh. "Start walking." I commanded, smiling a little behind his back at the familiar "sure, sure" I hadn't heard in years. Why did nobody else _ever_ say that?

"I had to fight so hard with Alice to come see you again today. I hope you appreciate these things I do for you."

"Always," he smiled. "She still hates me, then?"

I sighed. "No. Alice is actually very cool. You'd like her."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Ok you wouldn't. But you _should._" I scolded. Why did men have to be such huge bigots?

"She doesn't hate you. I don't think she really hates anyone. She just gets nervous when she can't see me."

"Wow, and I thought he was the possessive one. Does she come into the cubicle with you too Bella?"

I laughed. "No. That's not what I mean, idiot. She just doesn't like how she can't see my future when I'm with you."

"Oh, right." he remembered, his smug voice carrying shades of _I sure as hell like that._

Time to change the subject. "So you never told me yesterday, how is everyone back home? How many kids do Sam and Emily have now? 315?"

He snorted. "Not quite. Give them time," he said and proceeded to launch into an orderly recap of everyone's lives thus far.

While he talked and we walked I grew more and more self-conscious. This beach was a little more crowded than I was used to, mostly with really fit people in little bright scraps of fabric. It was like living in a Bret Easton Ellis novel.

_But no Patrick Bateman to put me out of my misery. Life isn't fair._

I was grateful that Jacob at least had shorts on. I crossed my arms, pulling the shirt tighter around me.

But then I started to sweat.

Oh to never sweat again, I thought, inwardly cursing all this _waiting_ Edward still managed to talk me into and immediately feeling the guilt flood hotly through my chest, because I shouldn't have those thoughts right now. I shouldn't think about _that_, not when he was _right there_. Somehow it didn't matter that Jacob couldn't read my mind. It was enough that _I_ knew what I was thinking to make it hurt.

He was talking about Embry and how freaky it was that he already had kids too, when I decided sweat patches would be more embarrassing than naked arms. I inched out of the shirt I was wearing to reveal the much more appropriate tank top underneath it, and, tying the shirt around my waist, silently congratulated myself on managing to complete the whole manoeuvre without drawing attention to myself. I didn't need to give Jacob another reason to laugh at me.

"So I'm holding this kid and I can practically fit him just in my hands and I'm telling you Bells, it was intense. There may have been tears." He grinned shyly over at me. "Don't tell anyone that."

I smiled. "Aw, they already know you're a big softie. You can't think about chicks and cars _all_ the time while you're wolfy."

"Sadly, no." He grimaced. "I meant don't tell anyone around here."

"Around here?" I scanned the beach. "Who am I going to go tell? The fat guy with the tanning lotion problem? 'Hey mister, my friend is _real_ sensitive.'"

He laughed brightly, and I felt a strange rush of pleasure at being the funny one.

"I mean my new people," he clarified. "My friends here."

"You have friends here?" I asked in mock disbelief.

He just grinned and nudged my bare shoulder playfully.

Then he stopped walking and turned to look at me.

"Wow." he pronounced, finally taking in my new state of undress. His eyes hovered darkly over my collarbone, dipping swiftly, almost imperceptibly over my left shoulder and quickly back to my face. For a second it seemed completely inevitable that he would touch me and I shivered, feeling a little sick at the thought that I could very well be blushing right now. "Wow," he repeated less intensely, tucking his hands in his pockets and resuming his steady pace. "You are so pale."

"Thanks for noticing," I mumbled, but he ignored me.

"I mean you were always pale by anyone's standards, but now it's almost like I can see right through you." He snickered. "Do you even _have_ arms Bella?"

"Oh I've got _arms_" I replied crossly, pushing him forward again with all of my meagre strength.

"So you do!" he conceded, chuckling, adding "Little white doll arms," his tone undeniably affectionate.

I couldn't help but feel a corresponding pang of fondness and looked down to hide a creeping smile. I took three small steps to catch up to him.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he continued, "I suppose you and your creepy husband don't get too much sun, huh?"

I was oddly struck by the light way Jacob said _husband_. It was the first time I had heard him refer to Edward that way and it seemed disconcerting that the term just rolled off his tongue with no more significance than 'suppose' and 'you' and 'your'.

The strange little thought flickered in my mind and I caught the tail-end of something he was saying.

"... ruin it all with a cremation."

"That's a myth." I said absently, half of me still at _husband_. "I mean, it's a fallacy. They don't burn."

He raised his eyebrows. "Interesting." After a moment he added, eyes wide, smile broad, tone ridiculously conversational, "So does he surf?"

I giggled at that. "No, he sparkles." I replied without thinking.

Jacob's brow furrowed as he stared down at me. "Huh?"

There was that sick feeling again; I was wishing I'd had the presence of mind to drown this conversation at birth. I sighed. "He sparkles. In the sun. A lot. It's pretty amazing actually..." I finished lamely.

His eyes widened to dinner plates and his lips paled as much as his russet skin would allow. For a minute I thought he was going to pop. And I suppose he sort of did, metaphorically, laughing so hard he had to turn around and bring his hands down to his knees. "Holy shit," he spluttered "I'm not even sure what to do with that visual."

"It's amazing," I protested weakly, "You'd... you'd be dazzled." I crossed my arms over my chest defensively.

"Yeah ok. I would. I'm sure it's. I..." the laughter ripped through him again. "You should not have used the word 'dazzled' in this context Bells. I was trying _so hard_." He coughed violently and dropped down into the sand, still laughing when he wasn't choking.

"Well you _would_." I insisted sitting down beside him with a rueful smile. "If you saw it. Be impressed."

A few moments passed, him chuckling softly and me trying not to blush, and then he was quiet and looking down at me - _God even when we're both on the ground he's looking down_ - a still-born smile on his lips.

"Maybe one day you'll show me." His words hung thick in the thicker air.

Suddenly my chest ached and it seemed like the only possible course of action was to reach out and take his hand, to pull myself over to him and rest my head against his shoulder and whisper into his skin _It's ok, Jake, it's ok, it's ok._

Before I could win or lose that little battle with my body, he smiled again and looked away. "You should come out with me tonight," he said easily. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

I was suddenly conscious of the sand being damp and my jeans being pale. "I..."

He filled my pause, amending, "Unless you have plans with your husband," quickly, flawlessly, too well.

I swallowed, thinking of the microwave dinner for one Edward would watch me eat. I could almost see his lovely face smiling more beatifically at me with each solitary mouthful.

"Sure, I could probably... sure."

He smiled and nodded. "Well good then."

I smiled back and hugged my knees to my chest. It was still aching.

_Good then._


	3. Chapter 3

I could see Alice wrinkling her nose behind me in the mirror.

"Well thank God vampires actually do have reflections," I joked, "Wouldn't want my self-esteem getting out of control."

She frowned, then smiled brilliantly at me, then frowned again.

"You're beautiful," she said matter-of-factly.

I smiled and turned to face her. I had never been good with compliments, but somehow it was easy to take them from Alice. I asked my wholly redundant question. "Then why the face?"

"Well," Alice said carefully, like we didn't both know what she was going to say and like she hadn't already said it only about a million times in the last few minutes.

"Ijustdon'tseewhyyouwon'twearthepink." Alice's words tumbled out in a predictable rush and I had to laugh.

I turned back to the mirror. "I like this." I said thoughtfully, examining my frame in the simple knee-length sheath.

"Sure, it's a good shape," Alice conceded, "But black really does nothing for you." Her nose was wrinkling again. "It makes you look so... hmm." She cocked her head to one side.

Rosalie's voice floated over from the couch, where, for the past hour, she had been alternating between feverishly writing in one of her little books and staring at me like I was blind.

"It makes her look like us," she said flatly.

_Maybe that's the point._

Alice ignored Rosalie's interjection. "Well at least I got my way with the shoes," she said, crossing her arms and looking down at her handiwork.

I grimaced and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. _Heels._

"I'll wear the pink if you let me wear sneakers?" I offered weakly.

She laughed heartily at that little suggestion. "Bel_la_," she chided, "You can't go to a club in a town like this wearing _sneakers_."

I wondered not for the first time about Alice's perplexingly upbeat attitude to the whole Bella-goes-out-with-Jacob's-friends-and-well-Jacob plan. Was she really clothes-mad enough to trade off her inevitable anxiety in exchange for dressing me up?

"Well I can't promise they'll stay on the whole time," I grumbled

Alice gasped and brought a dramatic hand to her chest. "You're not going to embarrass your family in public are you Bella? Shame on you."

"What you don't know won't hurt you," I flashed her a smile, but felt instantly awful for teasing her with that.

"I'll be fine," I reassured her. "It's just going to be a bunch of kids, irritatingly loud music and over-priced drinks."

_Just an old friend and his new friends._

Suddenly I had a thought. "Hey Alice, why don't you come with me," I suggested eagerly.

She frowned. "To play with your werewolf friends?"

"Only _one_ werewolf," I corrected her. "You can handle one little werewolf can't you?" I coaxed.

Her frown shifted into a small grimace that I'm sure was intended to look much more fierce than it did. "Oh I could take him any day."

I laughed. "If I let you come, you have to promise me, no physical violence in front of the humans."

Alice pouted. "Sorry. Deal-breaker. I have things to do anyway."

"What things?" I asked, pouting a little myself.

"Things!" she exclaimed waving her arms around theatrically. "With Jasper. _Private things._"

I laughed again holding up a hand in surrender, but my "Ok, ok, say no more." was accompanied by a sharp pang of _Private things with your vampire boyfriend, huh? Some people have all the luck._

--

Edward had insisted on dropping me off, but he'd also insisted on doing it a couple of blocks from the club. I had rolled my eyes and cursed Alice's fancy shoes and _men_.

That hadn't stopped me kissing him goodbye though, sort of wildly actually, or as wildly as was allowed, which - I peeled back the long sleeve of my black cardigan to check my watch - had contributed to my being a good half an hour later to meet Jacob than I'd said I'd be.

I groaned when I realized that the steady thumping sound under my feet was coming from my destination. I wasn't much of a drum-and-bass girl. With a sigh - punctuated by an unexpected jolt of apprehension - I pushed open the door.

_Just an old friend and his new friends._

The place was hot, dark, loud and packed, and there was a worrying amount of dancing going on. Perfect.

I was just wondering how on earth anyone ever found anyone in here, when Jacob appeared in front of me.

"Did you grow?" he asked, his deep voice slipping clearly under the chaos. "I could almost see the top of your head at one point!"

"Shoes." My answer seemed to get swallowed up in the music and everyone else's conversations, but that was beside the point because Jacob had grabbed my hand and was pulling me through the crowd. I sighed with relief when he pushed open a heavy glass door and led me out onto a open deck. The cool night air fanned soothingly over my face.

He dropped my hand and gestured to the wide black ocean in the distance. "Better, yes?"

"Vastly." I agreed, following him to the far corner of the deck, where three square tables had been haphazardly pushed together.

There were something like 10 boys crowded around the table, all talking, laughing, throwing back ridiculous amounts of beer. It struck me that Jacob's new friends all came in such different shapes and sizes, in contrast with the dark-haired, warm-skinned homogeny of the pack. He wound his way into the group, where he proceeded to stick out like a sore thumb - tall, broad, huge really, his long black hair spilling liquidly down his russet cheeks. At this table, surrounded by these college kids, he truly looked like a mythical creature; unfamiliar, exotic, a little glorious.

It was strange. Jacob had always been instant happiness for me, but right now the sight of him made me want to cry.

"Everyone, this is Bella." He grinned over at me. "My old - and very pale - flame."

I smiled and shook my head, not bothering (daring?) to ask _since when did you and I ever burn_, and he moved back to my side to point people out.

"Bells, this is Tony, John M and the skinny white kid on the end there is Ed."

Jake seemed to feel my body tense and smirked. "Oh please, it's a common name," he said under his breath. Ed flipped him the bird and there was a general murmur of "Hey Bella".

"Hi," I said, with a nervous little wave, feeling ridiculously out-of-place. Everyone out here was in tee-shirts and jeans.

_And I see several pairs of sneakers, Alice, thank you very much._

Jacob grabbed my hand again and led me round to the other side of the tables. "You don't need to know these other guys," he said, loudly enough to draw some laughs and a casual "Fuck off."

He let go of my hand and wiped off one of the plastic chair seats hastily, gesturing for me to sit down, but before I could do so - God, my feet _already_ hurt - there was a bright voice behind me.

"Well hello!"

I turned around quickly and looked up at a beaming face set a little higher than mine. "I'm Amy." She held out some nondescript drink. "We split up to look for you. Then I got thirsty," she laughed, "I couldn't get myself a drink without getting you one. It's just rum and coke, though. I'm cheap."

She was still smiling warmly at me and I found myself smiling back, saying some appropriate words of greeting, taking the drink and swallowing a large icy mouthful.

_There's someone I'd like you to meet._

Jake grinned. "Bells, Amy is the coolest girl in California and the best viola player in the Northern Hemisphere."

"Pffft," Amy objected "I may be extremely cool, but what the hell would you know about music." She gave him a disdainful little look that seemed to amuse him.

"Bella, let's sit down before we run out of chairs." Amy was smiling at me again. She was tall, well, taller than me, still plenty shorter than Jacob, with reddish brown hair cut in a sharp bob, bright, warm eyes and a smattering of freckles over golden-ish skin.

She was pretty, but I was fairly sure I was hotter than her, and the satisfaction that observation brought me was frankly disgusting. I sat down quickly, hoping the shame didn't show on my face.

Jacob found an empty spot round the other side of the tables and Amy pulled her chair close to mine and leaned in, sipping her drink. "I've heard so much about you, it's ridiculous. Most of it in the last 45 minutes too, so it's all very fresh and exciting."

"I've..."

She didn't let the word hang there long. Thank God.

"So is Dartmouth totally amazing and terrifying? My parents would have killed for me to go somewhere like that, but I just barely got in here and only because of the music scholarship."

I seized the opening. "Right, music. You play the viola? Which... wow." I smiled enthusiastically.

She looked shy for a moment. "Eh, it's nothing special. Jake makes a big deal, but most of these guys are musicians too so I don't get special treatment from them."

Armed with that new knowledge some little corner of my brain was starting to pick up on a conversation to my left.

"Seriously. Who is the composer of choice _in the bedroom?_"

"I wish I played an instrument," I said. "I guess you started when you were really young right?"

God, was I always this boring?

"What?! We need to work this gig to our advantage."

"Yeah," Amy smiled. "Not everyone does though. Sometimes..."

"Play Claire de Lune for her. Total legs-opener."

I stiffened involuntarily and was glad that a benevolent smile was already plastered across my face.

"Cos you can burn out, you know," Amy was saying, "And..."

"Nah, that's been _done_, man. You've gotta aim higher than that. Go with Philip Glass. Any Philip Glass. It all sounds he same anyway."

"I guess that's why it took me so long to realize this is actually what I want to be doing..."

"Philip Glass, _snooze_. You want to get her hot, not put her to sleep. Choose angst. Choose Wagner."

"Whatever, nazi"

"Hey, I can't help it if the music of genocide turns the ladies on!"

"... not just so I could go to college just to _go to coll-_"

Amy stopped abruptly, mid-sentence, mid-word in fact and yelled across the table. "Guys! Hey. Women-folk. Sitting right here." she waved her arm from me to her and glared.

Then she turned back to me, all serenity. "You were saying?"

I chuckled. "I think you were saying actually."

She waved a hand dismissively. "It was boring. You talk."

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea," I warned, "I think I'm probably the boring one."

Amy just smiled, taking a sip of her drink, waiting.

I half-sighed, half-laughed. Was I really going to go with the obvious?

"So you and Jake are good friends?" I was careful not to allow any pauses in that question.

She nodded. "He's awesome. It is kind of weird having a guy for a BFF though. There's way too much car talk, don't you find?"

My smile might have been a little tight. "BFF?"

"Best Friends Forever," she explained, giggling a little. "I like to embarrass him with that acronym."

"That does sound like fun. So you guys aren't..."

I already knew the answer but I couldn't seem to help myself asking. She was taking another sip of her rum and coke and I realized that after the initial swig my glass had been stuck motionless in my hands. They were freezing now. I put the glass on the table and shook them a little.

"No," she said. "I think Jake just... doesn't date?" Her voice turned up at the end like a question. "He can be a total manwhore though," she added, rolling her eyes.

Ugly little butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. I thought of the expensive tights and shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"I'm not surprised. He was always running around with his shirt off back in La Push." I managed a smirk. "They probably voted him 'Most likely to be an enormous slut' in his senior year."

This got a boisterous laugh out of Amy, and as I briefly allowed my eyes to dart across the table, I saw that Jacob was laughing too.

_Right. Super ears. Of course._

I retrieved my drink and took a big gulp of it, while Amy's laughter dissolved into little giggles.

"You're funny," she said appreciatively.

_You should have seen me at the beach today. I was on fire._

"So are you." I replied casually, trying not to wonder how much longer I was going to have to spend bonding with Jacob's very charming _BFF._ I swallowed the last of my rum and coke.

_I really hate rum and coke._

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jacob get up, making the table look like it belonged in a dollhouse. He walked over to us. "You girls want a refill?" he smiled.

"Oh! I'll get it." I said quickly, jumping up from my seat a little too energetically. "Same again, Amy?"

Jacob was smiling at me strangely now, his eyelids low, biting his lower lip just the tiniest bit. The ugly butterflies threatened.

Amy smiled. "Sure. I should probably protest, but... cheap, remember?"

I laughed a high pitched laugh and worried that it sounded a little hysterical.

Then I headed for the bar, feeling stupid in my black dress, suddenly deathly afraid of tripping over my shoes, not needing to turn around to know that Jacob was following me.


	4. Chapter 4

I was standing at the bar feeling pretty insignificant, trying to get the barman's attention and failing repeatedly. There were way too many people wanting drinks and they were all taller and more noticeable than me.

_I could have sworn Jacob followed me in._

"Need some help?" he asked, appearing as if queued by my thought, an amused smile on his lips.

I glared at him. "How long were you going to watch me struggle before you offered?"

He shrugged and nudged his way in next to me. "Until it stopped being cute and started being just... sad."

"You find my suffering cute. _Lovely._"

Jacob laughed. "I find your everything cute. It's messed up."

He leaned imposingly over the bar, caught the barman's eye. I looked down mutely, watching a little pool of liquid seep slowly into the sleeve of his grey shirt.

He ordered the rum and cokes before I had a chance to ask for something - _anything_ - else and then, for no reason at all that I could see, he picked up my hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed it quickly, warmly and returned it to its resting place on the bar.

"I've missed you," he said simply.

The ugly butterflies went mad and I tried to smile. My palm was cold and the back of my hand burned. A moment passed in which I was painfully aware that I wasn't smiling, I wasn't doing _anything_, just staring at him dumbly, waiting for my brain to fall into line.

The barman put three over-full glasses down in front of Jacob and took his money. That snapped me out of it.

"Wait!" I called out in a thin, ineffectual voice. "I was going to pay," I explained to Jacob.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled, wedging all three drinks between his two hands.

"Let me pay you back," I insisted, pathetically fumbling for notes in my purse.

He shook his head. "Let's just get out of here. You can get the next one, I promise."

"The next one?" I snorted. "How much liquor do you think I can handle Jake?"

"That little body?" He paused and turned back to look me over. "You can just get yourself a coke." He grinned. "I'd pat you on the head condescendingly right now, but my hands are full. Sorry."

"Oh darn." I muttered sarcastically, following him back outside.

It had been hot inside the club, too hot, but somehow the rush of cool sea air didn't feel as welcome as it had the first time.

I paused outside the door and watched as Jacob walked back to the tables in the corner. He set the drinks down, saying something to Amy that she found funny and I couldn't hear. Things twisted inside me, the thought of calling Edward and having him come get me flashed absurdly through my mind. But then I was back at the table, sitting in the only remaining seat, between an unnamed short, muscular boy and another one who I was pretty sure was John M. He smiled at me good-naturedly and I smiled back, feeling very, very old.

_For God's sake you are only 22 and you look like you're 12. Based on appearance alone John M would be allowed to see 300 and you wouldn't._

He extended a hand. "Hey, I'm John".

I shook it and smiled. "I remember. What makes you so special you get an actual introduction?"

"Ummm... I don't play an instrument, I won't even sing in church, I am the musical void." He said, with dead-pan delivery.

I laughed. "Yeah, Amy told me most of these guys are music students."

He rolled his eyes. "It's a fucking nightmare. Thank God for Ed. We're both taking economics and commerce."

"That sounds interesting," I said blandly, my fingers fiddling with the edge of my sleeve.

"You think? I don't think anyone here would agree with you. I like to remind them that one day Ed and I will actually have real jobs. Puts them in their place."

"Real jobs are good."

_Scintillating, Bella._

There was an uncomfortable pause. Everybody else's conversations seemed extremely loud and close.

"So you and Jake were high-school sweethearts?" John M finally asked.

"Not exactly." I replied, something between guilt and annoyance curling in my stomach.

_Or the butterflies, who could keep track._

"Well I guess it couldn't have been that serious," he said, nodding toward my left hand. "Aren't you a little young to be married?"

I smiled nervously. "I'm 22."

"Oh," he seemed surprised, then amused. "So Jake used to like the older women?"

I was mumbling something like "I guess so," and "It's only a year and a little bit," when I was interrupted.

"I believe that's something you two have in common." Amy crouched between us, holding out my drink. "Swap with me?" she asked. "Johnny and I have some unfinished business." She grinned mischievously at John M and he rolled his eyes.

"God Amy, give it up. It goes with me to my grave."

"We'll see about that," Amy nudged me. I took the drink and stood up. "It was nice to talk to you," I said, probably too formally, but it didn't matter because Amy was already quizzing him. It had something to do with John M's mom's maid of honour. I didn't want to know.

And I didn't want to go sit in Amy's chair.

_I didn't want to go sit in Amy's chair next to Jacob's chair._

I wandered over to the edge of the deck instead and balanced my drink on the railing. Something pathetic in my chest hoped - no expected - Jacob would come to talk to me anyway. I tried not to look like I was waiting, sipping my drink busily and looking thoughtfully at my fingernails.

"Hey, Bella?"

_That's not the right voice._

I turned around to see the short muscular boy who'd been sitting to my right when I was talking with John M.

"I can't decide if I was rude for not introducing myself or John was rude for hogging the conversation." He smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Alex."

"Hi Alex," I shook it and took a deep breath. _Conversation time again._

"So let me guess. Drums? Double bass?"

He laughed.

"Tambourine?" I tried weakly.

"Guitar actually."

"Oh. Well that's a lot cooler than the tambourine," I smiled.

"I have to agree with you there."

"Acoustic or electric?" I asked, trying to make myself actually be interested.

"Both. Either. It depends on the context. College stuff, band stuff."

"You have a band?" This was good, we could talk about this.

"Yeah, with a few of the other guys," he said, gesturing nonchalantly toward the tables. I could tell he was trying not to sound too impressed with himself.

"What kind of stuff do you guys play?"

"Hmmm. Well it's kind of hard to explain. And I'm scared that if I try you'll just go away thinking we're the 365th Coldplay."

I giggled and took a sip of my drink. "One for every day of the year?"

"Seems that way." He smiled. "You should just come see us play. We have a gig on campus next Friday - get Jake to bring you along."

"Oh... I don't think I'll be in town that long."

My eyes quickly found Jacob, who was completely still and seemed to be concentrating on staring into his drink. I was pretty sure he'd heard that.

"But I mean sure," I added hastily, smiling at Alex. "If I'm around, sure."

I looked over at Jacob again. He was nodding at something Ed was saying now. Maybe he hadn't heard. Maybe he had heard and he understood.

_Of course he_ understood, _Bella, he's not a moron._

I went to take a sip of my drink. All that was left was ice.

_How the hell did that happen?_

Alex was saying something about selling your soul to the labels and somewhere along the line, someone brought out another round of drinks, which I'm pretty sure I paid for.

--

"These shoes are _bullshit,_" I said, surprised by how loud my voice sounded echoing through the empty street.

Amy's laughter was loud also. "Woah, calm down Bella, what did Jimmy _Choo_ ever do to _yoo._" She giggled to herself.

Jacob groaned. "Oh Amy. Just no."

I leaned down and started trying to undo the buckle on the ankle strap of my left shoe. "_Bullshit,_" I muttered again, realizing that if I wanted to get these things off I'd have to sit down on the sidewalk and do it properly.

As I fumbled with Alice's shoes, Jacob and Amy's sporadic laughter was sounding farther and farther away. My eyes flickered behind and in front of me, left and right, and I felt a surge of panic, remembering an empty backstreet in Port Angeles all too much like this one.

_Port Angeles, Los Angeles, all angels. Was Edward around the corner, waiting to save me?_

I scrambled to my feet, shuddering a little, and grabbed the shoes by the straps in one hand. I ran to catch up, feeling considerably freer with my feet properly on the ground.

When he saw the shoes in my hand Jacob laughed. "Bells, for the love of God. You can't just walk around in LA without shoes on, you'll get glass in your foot or something. Honestly, it's like hanging out with a two year old."

Amy frowned comically. "Ew. Glass."

I stuck my tongue out at Jake, dimly aware that that would do nothing to undercut his two year old gag.

He sighed, a heavy melodramatic sigh, and grabbed the shoes out of my hand, shuffling out of his sneakers. "Here, wear these."

"What about your glass?" I giggled. "I mean your feet. With the glass."

"Soles like leather, Bells." He smiled conspiratorially and lowered his voice. "One of the perks of spending half your life running around in the forest."

I grinned. "Well you could always wear my shoes. If we go through any particularly nasty areas."

"You jest, but I reckon I could work the heels." he grinned back at me. "If they weren't 10 sizes too small of course."

"Maybe your feet are just 10 sizes too big," I mumbled, shuffling along in his ridiculously huge sneakers. "This is _not_ going to work. The holes in the top are bigger than my feet."

"Maybe I should carry you then," he suggested, handing me back the heels. "Just like old times." He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his arms. The sneakers fell almost immediately from my feet.

I squealed and laughed and felt a little sick. "PUT ME DOWN!" I yelled. "Amy, help!"

Jacob ran to join Amy, who had wandered a surprising distance ahead. He held me tightly to his chest. "Oh Amy won't help you. She's my partner in crime."

"That's right," Amy backed him up. She threw her arms up in the air. "To criiiiime!"

Jacob laughed into my hair. "There's no escape," he whispered. Then he set me down next to Amy. "I should probably go get my shoes though. Wait here," he commanded sternly, before sprinting back the way we had come.

"How can you not want to be carried?" Amy screwed up her face in confusion. "I want to be carried."

"So give me your sneakers." I suggested with a little giggle.

By the time Jacob returned, I was wearing Amy's shoes and Amy was squeezing into Alice's heels.

"Ok now it's just getting absurd." He laughed.

Amy tottered along looking pleased with herself. "This is good," she declared. "I should wear heels more often."

"Every should wear heels around me," Jacob said.

Amy frowned. "Even the guys?"

"_Especially,_ the guys. Right Bells?" Jacob smirked in my direction.

I giggled. "Only the pretty ones," I teased, "with their pretty long hair."

Jacob's response to that was to pull me to him and kiss my cheek, a little violently. Well I assumed he was aiming for cheek. It ended up feeling more like jaw.

_Or neck._

I stopped short and stared at him accusingly. "What are you-"

He didn't give my surprise a chance to turn into anger, just laughed and bounded up to Amy pulling her into a hug and kissing her cheek firmly too.

I looked down, swallowed hard, pushed a hand against my chest, kept walking.

"Ahhh," Amy sighed, then giggled. _"Can you feel the love tonight,"_ she sang.

Jacob laughed and I tried to do the same. He took both of our hands and swung them like a child while we walked.

"Where... are we even going?" I asked. It felt like we'd been walking forever.

"My place." Amy said simply.

"Amy has a place off campus," Jacob informed me. "She lives with a whole bunch of guys."

Amy giggled. "It's a good time."

I shook my head slowly, suddenly feeling extremely tired. "I should make a call," I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else.

Jacob dropped my hand abruptly. "Looks like you won't have to bother," he said in a flat voice.

A silver volvo was rounding the corner of the street to our left.

_Edward._

I sighed with relief and waved my hands stupidly above my head. "Edward!" I yelled.

Amy giggled. "Is that your husband? I think he sees you, Bella."

Edward pulled up next to us and the window skittered down. "Bella." He smiled at me softly, then looked over at Jacob and Amy. "Can I give you two a lift somewhere?" he asked politely. Everyone but Amy knew it wasn't a real offer, just a formality.

My eyes darted nervously to Jacob and I noticed that he was still holding Amy's hand. "Thanks, but we'll walk," he replied stiffly. "Bye Bella." He forced a smile.

"Bye Bellaaaaa," Amy sing-songed as they both headed off. Faintly, I heard her grumbling to Jacob, "Why are we walking again?"

I opened the car door and got in.

"Edward." I smiled. I was probably staring adoringly at him.

He laughed lightly. "You look like you had a good time."

I frowned, confused. "I think I did." I said.

He laughed again. "And a fair bit of alcohol." He reached out and stroked a cool hand down my cheek. "Let's get you home."

"Mm home," I mumbled contentedly, resting my head on Edward's shoulder.

I was irrationally surprised at how cold it felt.


	5. Chapter 5

"Edward?" I asked, lying in his arms the next morning, waiting for the asprin Carlisle had given me to take effect.

"Mm?" he murmured.

"How is it that you were just all of a sudden there last night?"

He took a moment to reply. "I was worried about you."

"Why?" I asked, shifting so we were face to face. What a stupid question. When was Edward _not_ worried about me. "Well. I mean, why in particular?"

He smiled the crooked smile that signaled he was about to say something clever. "Well I knew Alice made you wear those high heeled shoes. That's a significant danger with someone as accident prone as you are, Bella."

I snorted. Then abruptly remembered. "Shoes! Amy has my shoes."

"And it appears we have hers." he said, nodding toward the mess I'd left when getting changed last night. He frowned, considering something. "I'm not sure it's a fair trade. A pair of Converse Allstars for a pair of Manolo Blahniks."

"I thought they were Jimmy Choos," I said idly, settling carefully back down against his solid, unyielding chest.

"Perhaps they were. Alice is fond of both."

"I'll get them back," I assured him.

"That won't be necessary, love. I'll replace them." He raked a cold hand through my hair, kissed the top of my head lightly.

"I'll get them back." I repeated firmly.

--

"Amy's sorry she couldn't meet you herself. She has some huge paper due. Overdue actually." Jacob grimaced. "We probably shouldn't have kept her out all night on Friday."

"We? Please, it was completely your fault." I teased. "Tell her I don't mind, but I would like to see her sometime." I hesitated. "To say goodbye."

I watched Jacob out of the corner of my eye, monitoring his reaction. But there was nothing. Nothing but "Sure, sure. She'd like that" and an answering smile.

I should probably have felt relieved. He handed me a shoebox. "She felt bad about, as she puts it, "trying to steal the expensive pretties", so she put them in a box for you, again, as she puts it, "with tissue paper and everything"."

"Hmm, I was under the impression that it was a simple mistake, not an attempt at shoe-theft." I smiled brightly. "But box! Tissue paper! It's all good."

Jacob chuckled and took Amy's sneakers from me, walked round to the back of the beat-up 70s firebird he drove.

"Guess the rabbit got left behind in Washington," I noted with a little pang of sadness.

_With my truck._

"I still drive it when I'm down there, don't worry."

I nodded, then frowned. "I wasn't worried." I shook my head. "Hey can you put this in there too for now? So I don't have to carry it around like an idiot."

He took the box and put it in the trunk with the sneakers, smiling to himself. "Right. Walking, talking _and_ carrying? Bella Swan has enough trouble with just the first of those."

"Oh funny."

I lifted a hand to my brow, squinting in the sun, reading aloud from the sign at the exit of the small parking lot. "Echo Park Lake. Fishing Permitted."

"Jake... " I eyed him suspiciously. "You had better not be taking me fishing."

He laughed. "Would I do that to you? Calm down. We'll just take a walk and get some coffee. It's all very undemanding, Bells."

"I should hope so." I said indignantly. "And we're not walking too far. My feet do not need to be brutalized again, thank you very much."

Jacob chuckled and took my hand, pulling me along. "Such a girl," he muttered.

He only let go when he went to order our coffees at the small deli by the lake.

--

"You never told me Bella. Why are you here?"

We were walking through tall grass and the last person we had seen was a lone fisherman about a quarter of a mile back. Jacob had made a gag about borrowing his gear and I had hurried him along, ironically whilst complaining that we'd already walked too far. The flat open space on the other side of the vast lake was peppered with tiny picnickers and the sun beat hypnotically down between the few tall, broad trees.

I shrugged. "Rosalie decided it was time to try her luck in Hollywood."

Jacob laughed. "Rosalie's the hot one right?"

I frowned. "They're all hot. Well. Not hot. More glacial. _Anyway._"

He laughed again and I tried to think what to say.

"You'll hate this." I muttered.

"I'll hate what?"

I sighed, pulling on a freakishly tall blade of grass. "That I don't really _know_ why I'm here. I mean, like I said, I'm here because we're here, but beyond that I'm not sure."

I looked over at him, expecting some sarcastic remark. He stared straight ahead.

"Carlisle's supposed to be assisting in some training program here, but he literally hasn't left the house, none of them have."

"Except your hero, when he swooped in to save you from the sidewalk."

There it was. I smiled a little, nodded. "Except for that. But it's strange. We can't really be here because of Carlisle, unless... what? All of his meetings happen to be scheduled when I'm with you?" I frowned, suddenly remembering Alice's bizarre enthusiasm for my Friday night outing. I was going to have to talk to Edward when I got home, no matter how unpleasant it might be.

I was busy trying to decide how I would broach that subject when Jacob spoke. "You're right by the way. I really do hate that. Bells, he treats you like a-"

I held up a hand, closed my eyes for a second. "Don't. Please. Can we just change the subject?"

We walked in silence for a moment. When Jacob replied his voice was sad and heavy. "I suppose we may as well."

I quickened my pace a little and spoke hastily. "So thanks for inviting me the other night. It was good to meet Amy and your other friends. Well just John M and Alex, really."

"You didn't like the rest of them?"

"What? No, no, I just didn't really get to talk to anyone else. I think I may have been a little anti-social actually," I confessed.

"No way! You were the life of the party."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Don't you remember Bells? You were dancing on the tables. Yes you! Dancing. On tables." He laughed. "It was quite a sight to behold. You know, you're not as uncoordinated as you like to let me think." He winked at me.

I rolled my eyes, smiling a little despite myself. "You should take this stuff on the road, Jacob. Brilliant."

"Seriously Bella, it was like girls gone wild. At one point you were this close to making out with Tony." He pinched his thumb and forefinger together. "It was horrifying. You're lucky I stepped in just in time and reminded you that you are _Bella the Pure and Virtuous._"

"Oh ha ha." I shoved at him fairly uselessly and kept talking before he could make another joke. "Speaking of the other night and, you know, inappropriate physical contact... You really shouldn't do stuff like that, Jake."

"Stuff like what?" He asked innocently enough, but I was sure he knew what I meant.

I just gave him a look and eventually he sighed and stopped walking. "It was only on the cheek, Bella. Can't I kiss you on the cheek?" He reached out and touched the tips of his warm fingers to my right cheek, letting them flutter down to my chin. He was smiling softly down at me, his eyes liquid and far too warm.

I was stuck somewhere between inhale and exhale. My chest ached, my face burned. Something unsettling was happening in the pit of my stomach too, but I couldn't think about that, not now, _not ever._ I was only able to answer the question when he had let his hand drop. I swallowed. "I'm not sure."

I took a couple of steps forward, trying to get myself back on an even kiel, wishing I had Edward's cold hands to soothe the burning in my cheek.

_One day you'll never get hot like this again._

The thought seemed to come out of nowhere, almost as though it came from somebody else's mind, and I nearly stumbled over my own feet (which I suppose, given my track record, wouldn't have been very surprising to either of us).

I had my back to Jacob and I allowed myself to close my eyes for a moment, feeling the earth shifting underneath me. When my breathing steadied, I turned around, remembering the point I was trying to make. "I don't mean you shouldn't... I mean you shouldn't kiss me, then kiss her and... It's not fair... I mean..." I had to concentrate to get this out. "How long are you planning on ignoring this amazing girl who's right in front of you, Jake?" I asked, managing a weak smile.

He raised his eyebrows suggestively. I rolled my eyes.

"I was talking about Amy. Obviously."

He grinned. "Obviously." Then he shook his head. "It's not like that with Amy."

"Why not? She's perfect," I said. I was pleased with myself for managing to sound so nonchalant and instantly disgusted by that pleasure.

_Was I the kind of person who needed a pat on the back just for not being selfish to the point of cruelty?_

He smiled tightly. "Nobody's perfect."

When he spoke again he seemed to deliberately alter his tone. "Amy's cool, but it's not like that with us."

"I'm pretty sure it is for her," I pressed, wondering briefly why the hell I wasn't just letting this go.

"Think what you like about that." Jacob's jaw was tight again. "It's irrelevant. I'm not in love with her. I never will be."

"How can you know that?" I smiled nervously, had to look down for this part. "_I_ thought I knew that, remember? I spent all my time avoiding..." I trailed off, not quite brave enough to go there. "But at least I had a real reason. At least I knew it was _impossible._"

"You think I don't?" he asked and I was aware that though all Los Angeles was still bathed in sunlight, the mood here was rapidly darkening.

"It's different. You always insisted I had... options." I met his eyes, feeling a tiny tremor go through me. "You don't, Jake."

He ignored the implication, repeating stonily, "I'm not in love with her. I never will be."

"You don't know that! Feelings can change!" I insisted, exasperated.

"Not yours apparently."

Why did those three words hurt so much? I looked down, swallowed dryly, and my body was suddenly in full revolt. My hands were traitors, twitching at my sides. I wanted so badly to reach out, to put my hands in his hair, to tell him _But they do, maybe they do, maybe I could, maybe I do, I love you, I love you._ The words gushed up from my chest and pushed desperately against my lips.

Instead I kept my head down, gritted my teeth and ground out the words.

"Stop. Trying. To guilt-trip me, Jacob." I looked up at him. "You're ok. You're _fine._ You have this whole new life now." I was a little horrified at the unexpectedly bitter tone my voice took on.

His short laugh was filled with the same... _what, what is this feeling, what is it._

"Well what did you expect?" His lips curved in a mocking smile.

_Is something funny?_

"You do know I was only bluffing back then, right?" he asked evenly.

I took an involuntary step back.

"I know you tried to blackmail me into-"

Jacob cut into my sentence.

"I'm not going to _kill myself_ over you Bella. That's _your thing._"

He hadn't raised his voice, but there was so much rage in it, so much trembling brutality, it nearly knocked me off my feet. It took a moment to compose myself enough to speak.

When I did, the words were bone cold. "That's good. Then I don't have to worry."

He laughed, another short, caustic laugh. "Worry about what? That you'll break my heart? That you've already broken it one way but you're not done yet? I'll never just say fuck it and _die, I couldn't do that to the people I love._ But that doesn't mean I'll keep _living_ when you're gone."

I stood mutely, shock rippling through my limbs.

"So keep worrying, if that's what you usually do. Worry all you want. Really."

I still couldn't speak and the silence stretched stickily, crawling up from my two feet on the uneven ground. My face felt like it was covered in tiny little pins.

And he wasn't finished.

"Don't think that he loves you more just because he's weak. Just because he should have been dead a long time ago and being alive doesn't mean anything to him." he spat angrily.

My mouth snapped open. "Edward Cullen is the strongest person I've ever known." I drew my words out slowly, darkly, my eyes boring into Jacob's.

He stared back, confusion clouding the fury in his face. He shook his head a little and looked down, seeming almost dazed.

"Sure, sure," he muttered and an answering wave of nausea rolled through me.

"I'm sorry." I said, quietly, heavily. "I shouldn't have come."

For a second his eyes were on mine again and I didn't know what they were trying to tell me. It felt like I couldn't understand _anything._

Then he had turned around. He was walking away.

_Just walking away from me._

This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. I wasn't supposed to spend another three years with _this_ as the final word. _Was I?_

My hands were already balled into fists at my sides. I clenched them tightly to try to keep the words in, but when I heard someone call out "Wait!" I realized it was already too late. "Wait." I repeated. "Jake, I... wait."

He was still walking.

_Still walking away from me._

Panic, no more than that, fear, started to well up inside of me. My legs, my stomach, my chest, even my eyes actually ached and I could feel them filling with tears.

_One day you'll never cry like this again._

Jacob spun around so fast that it seemed like he'd heard the _"Please."_ before I had cried out.

"You shouldn't have come, remember?" he yelled back at me.

We both held a high and painful breath. We both exhaled.

He looked down, added softly "You only said it a second ago."


	6. Chapter 6

We left LA the next morning. I never said goodbye to Amy. I never got Alice's shoes back.

The Cullens - _we_ - left the morning after Jacob and Bella had... had we broken? _Everything felt so broken._

We broke and then _we_ were gone. It seemed like there had to be a connection between these two events, but since Edward still couldn't read my thoughts and I had told him nothing, how could there be?

The truth was Edward had simply woken me gently at four in the morning - _not that I was asleep_ - and told me it was time to leave.

The truth was I hadn't even bothered to ask him why.

--

For the next few weeks we continued our tour of southern California, following the coast up to Santa Barbara, Monterey, Napa, stopping and starting erratically, seemingly without purpose. But of course there had to be a purpose in all this. I was aware that I should be trying to figure it out, that I should at least be asking Edward what the hell was going on, but somehow it no longer seemed urgent. Very little did.

It seemed silly to care where I went and why. After all, it was summer vacation, I had no responsibilities, nowhere I had to be, there was nothing that couldn't wait. Edward had never given me a reason not to trust his judgement. I could just leave this part up to him. It would be ok. It would be easy.

Everything would be easier.

That seemed to be my primary objective in life at the moment, making sure everything was easy. Ironic that it was sometimes exhausting, working so hard to avoid anything that might complicate my thoughts. But exhaustion was helpful in its own right and eerily dreamless sleep was what I looked forward to most in a day.

It had been ok before. The three Jacob-less years after the wedding. It had been ok because I had held his hand and he had told me he loved me _(more)_ and I had been the one to walk away. I had gotten married and gone to Dartmouth and left my Jacob in La Push, with Billy and the rabbit, with warm soda, rain on the tin roof of the garage, wolves howling in the forest and story-telling by the sea. I could cope with that.

_And you can cope with this._

I had to be able to. Once I had thought I might die without Edward and now he was mine and I was his and how could that not be enough? If that wasn't enough for me then I simply wasn't a rational being. And I wanted so badly to be rational. I wanted so badly to be fair and honest and whole.

I knew from Charlie that Jake had cancelled his trip home that summer and I cringed at the thought of Billy, far too alone in that house for far too long. The guilt gnawed hungrily at my insides and I tried to tell myself _It's not your fault that Jacob decided to go off to..._

I had no idea where Jacob was or what he was doing, and no one to ask without humiliating myself. And it didn't matter whether I knew or not, it couldn't matter. It wasn't my information to even seek out.

The only relevant fact was that he wasn't the huge russet wolf roaming the forest outside La Push, not thinking so as not to think of me. And he wasn't the broad-shouldered, black-haired young man walking dazedly through tall grass, away from the edge of a vast lake in Los Angeles. He wasn't where I had left him this time.

He wasn't my Jacob.

--

As my 23rd birthday approached and the start of semester at Dartmouth receded, I thought a lot, more out of habit than anything else, about Edward's vow to me. Not to love and protect me _for as long as we both shall live._ He was doing pretty well on that score.

I thought about the promise to make me a vampire.

I had never been very interested in my birthday and since I had met Edward I had grown to dislike it more and more. Birthdays reminded me that every day changed me, that with each hour that passed parts of me were starting to wear out, while the Cullens continued to be perfect and brand new. In the last few years my mood around that time of year had gone from tense to downright angry. In the days leading up, Edward would be distant, hunting more than was necessary, Alice would tiptoe around me on eggshells and I would spend a suspicious amount of time in Jasper's soothing company.

But on the actual day there was always a party. There was just no amount of whining that would stop Alice throwing a party and no amount of unpleasantness that would spoil it for her once it was under way. The rest of us would all play our parts as best we could and before I fell asleep that night, Edward and I would have set a new date for the change.

Every year was the same: gifts, a party and a new date.

This year I didn't bring it up. I smiled kindly at Alice while she fussed, admired the terrifyingly expensive-looking bracelet Edward gave me, kissed his beautiful mouth a hundred times in the moonlight that fell limply into our 5-star hotel room.

It wasn't that I had changed my mind about becoming a vampire. It was just that talking about it would be extremely complicated. And these days, if possible, I preferred that Alice tell me what color shirt to put on in the morning.

She was happy to oblige, of course.

--

One day not long after my birthday, when we had been in Santa Cruz for nearly a week, I found myself - what were we doing? going shopping? seeing a movie? I couldn't recall - with Rosalie of all people.

She had smiled nervously and bundled me into the car at some unidentifiable time that morning. It felt like we had been driving for quite a while, but I couldn't be sure how long. I hadn't bothered to read the signs that trickled by as we drove and I realized numbly that I had no idea where we were.

"Don't you want to know where we're going?" Rosalie glanced over at me, a tense little smile on her exquisite face.

"Didn't you..." I paused. "You didn't tell me already?"

"No."

I didn't respond, just rested my head against the heavily tinted window and looked over at her. She was so lovely to look at. She smiled warmly at me. I didn't know Rosalie _could_ smile warmly. It was glorious.

I smiled back, a little less winningly I'm sure.

"We can do anything you like, Bella."

I nodded. "That's nice."

"I thought we might go to the theatre tonight. If there are seats left."

My brow furrowed slowly. "Tonight?"

She flashed me another devastatingly lovely smile. "Yes, tonight."

I stared blankly at her for a moment. "Ok."

Rosalie bit her lower lip, grimacing a little.

"Bella... aren't you going to ask me what's going on?"

I sighed. "What's going on, Rosalie?"

She pressed her lips together tightly, then leaned toward me a little, her eyes wide. "I'm kidnapping you."

"Oh." I said mildly, staring back at her. I found myself marveling for the millionth time at her perfect face, at how her pale eyebrows arched expressively over her golden-lashed eyes. I was totally absorbed by her beauty. She frowned and brought her gaze back to the road ahead.

"Isn't that usually Alice's job?" I asked idly.

Rosalie laughed nervously. "I suppose it is. But she's busy this time."

There was a long pause. We passed a cornfield and I stared out into it. It blurred a little, dulled and darkened a little under the thick tinted glass. The steady whir of the engine seemed to be conducting the golden-black mass in a bleak, brilliant ripple, dark but bright at the same time. I felt pleasantly hypnotized, was hoping the landscape would never change when Rosalie spoke again.

"Don't you want to know why I'm kidnapping you, Bella?"

I turned slowly back to face her.

"Yes. Please. Rosalie."

She frowned at my irritated tone, but answered me anyway. "We're hiding," she said.

"Ok, I feel better now that I'm all clued in." I muttered sarcastically, turning back to my cornfield. It had been replaced with small houses and barns.

Rosalie pursed her lips. "There's no need to be unkind, Bella. I'm... I'm trying to help you."

I smiled and shook my head. Why was I being like this? "I know you are, I'm sorry." I sucked in a breath, released it carefully, rested my head against the window. "Can you tell me why we're hiding?"

She hesitated. "To be safe." She rubbed her right thumb along the steering wheel. "To be safe until the others get back."

Things started to stir inside me right then. Old corroded things, parts of my brain that I hadn't used in weeks. Suddenly I could hear the muffled thud of my heart beating through the glass of the car window. I sat up slowly.

"Rosalie?" I asked quietly.

Her lovely mouth twitched.

"Where have the others gone?"

She gripped the steering wheel, blinked quickly.

Then she turned to me in that ridiculous way they always did, staring at me for far too long, like the car wasn't hurtling toward possible disaster. But something in her topaz eyes made it impossible for me to be afraid of trees or road blocks or cars or trucks. It was impossible to be afraid of pain or death with this other sharper, brighter terror building inside me at a sickening pace.

"Rosalie where have they gone?" I breathed, something between a whisper and a hiss.

Her eyes were on the road again.

"They've gone to Italy," she said simply, staring straight ahead.

--

"Stop the car." I said evenly, before screaming louder than I had ever thought possible "STOP THE FUCKING CAR ROSALIE."

"I can't do that, Bella," she said, her eyes still on the road.

I realized I was actually shaking, as rage and other unfamiliar emotions thrilled through my body. As suddenly and with as much speed as a clumsy human girl could manage I threw myself at the hand-brake. Before I could cry out I was back against the passenger window, clutching my stomach in pain. The impact of Rosalie's one-handed shove had winded me.

She looked over at me, sadness pooling tearlessly in her perfect eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, Bella." She reached out a hand as if to comfort me, then seemed to think better of it and returned it to the steering wheel. "I've never wanted to hurt you," she added, and her words ached with meaning.

I was concentrating on breathing as evenly as I could while I waited for the pain to subside. I tried so hard to think, but every time words and pictures formed in my mind my breathing quickened and my eyes started to cloud over.

My face was wet before I even knew I was crying and I pushed a hand aimlessly against my cheek, pulled down hard on a handful of hair. "Is this what this has all been about?" I asked between sobs. "All this time? The Volturi and- and _me?_"

Rosalie nodded silently as the car rolled slickly onwards, light and heavy at the same time.

"I don't understand!"

I thought I had screamed it, but it sounded small. I wiped madly at the tears. "Why are we having tours of the sunshine state and taking trips to Italy. If the Volturi are coming, why are we... If they're coming for me then why doesn't Edward just _do it?_" I choked a little. My breath had caught in my throat when I said his name.

_Edward. Edward in Italy. Edward in Italy with the Volturi. Edward just exactly where I had almost lost him all those years ago._

"I don't know," Rosalie said softly. "He doesn't tell me everything either."

I felt like I was going to be sick, like I was literally about to vomit into my own lap. I pushed the button to roll the window down, but Rosalie quickly flicked the child lock. I suppose she thought I was going to throw myself out or something. And maybe I would have.

I lay back in my seat. My nose was half-blocked from crying, but I kept my mouth sealed shut, breathing uncomfortably, noisily, trying to swallow the bile that rose in my throat.

"This is not good." I barely opened my mouth to say it, let my eyes roll back and close.

"No it's not." Rosalie agreed quietly. "But it has become necessary."

My eyes opened slowly and it was like pulling bricks apart. I swallowed twice and whispered through my teeth. "What has become necessary?"

Rosalie took a moment to reply, wheels ground endlessly underneath us.

"The Volturi must be convinced... or controlled."

Her face twisted grotesquely, beautifully.

"Or destroyed."


	7. Chapter 7

For weeks I had worked so hard at being an intellectual void, entirely without curiosity. Now driving to who-knows-where with Rosalie Hale, questions crowded furiously into my mind and it was impossible to make them settle down and form an orderly queue.

It was either fear or guilt or both that chose my first question.

"The night I went out in Los Angeles." I swallowed, sucked my lips into my mouth, breathed. "Was something following me?" My stomach churned dangerously at the thought of some monstrous creature, half-mad with bloodlust, trailing me in the shadows, tracking Jacob and - _God_ - _Amy_ because of _me._

"No." Rosalie said firmly. But before I could feel any relief she added "Edward and Alice made sure it was following them."

"What?! Why?" I asked. _"How?"_

She laughed softly, lightly. "Don't you miss your favorite gray sweater, Bella?"

"It's not my favorite." I said dumbly, aware that that was hardly the point. I shook my head. "That wouldn't even work anyway. It couldn't. Last time we had to do so much more than that."

Rosalie smiled a little. "There may have been some intentional antagonism, as well. To help things along."

"Help things along?" I choked out.

Her smile broadened and she turned to look at me. "It was a trap. We ripped it apart."

I blinked rapidly, trying not see the carnage in my mind.

"Why California?" I should have let this one come first, because it wasn't just my question, it had been Jacob's too.

"We thought the last place they would think to look for us was, as you say, the sunshine state." Her brow furrowed. "Maybe we were wrong. Or maybe there are a great number of them searching all over the continent at the same time."

I shuddered at that thought and for a few minutes the fear of throwing up prevented me from asking the next question, the one that clung inevitably to its predecessor. I breathed deeply, shakily, closed my eyes to muster enough strength to open my mouth.

"Was there any particular reason we went into LA?"

Silence.

"Rosalie, please." I breathed and I could hear the gentle squeak of the leather as her hands shifted and tightened on the wheel.

"Edward wanted to speak with your friend."

My seat came alive. It lurched and rolled under me and I was falling, falling for far too long and toward nothing. I clutched at the dashboard to steady myself. "What?" I gasped out. "What about? When?"

She looked over at me, concern bright in her topaz eyes. "Are you alright, Bella?"

I let my head swing down to my knees, then dragged it up again. It felt like a bowling ball. "When." I repeated a little more solidly.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. "He went to see him after sundown on our last night. But he returned so quickly... I very much doubt he even had time to ask."

"Ask. What." The words felt brittle and cold in my mouth.

Rosalie's eyes flickered nervously to mine and then back to the road. "He thought there might be some interest in another joint venture."

I froze.

_Italy. The Volturi. Edward. Jacob._

My chest felt like it was stuffed with ice-cubes, but my face was hot. "Is the pack with them?"

She shook her head a little. "I don't think so. Edward wouldn't speak about his meeting. Carlisle wanted to go to La Push, to see their leader, but Edward refused to consider it. Returning to Washington right now would be too dangerous. And he insists we are strong enough as it is."

"Why does he decide?" I whispered to myself. Wasn't Carlisle the head of the family? I thought of Sam Uley and Jacob. Alpha and beta, beta and alpha. How strange these hierarchies were.

"Because it's about you, Bella, and you are his wife. That is why Edward decides."

I breathed out something that was almost a giggle, struck suddenly by an unhelpful fact. "Did you know you people are very old-fashioned?"

She laughed, but it was a sad laugh and the smile under it was sadder still. "I suppose we are. I hope you don't hold it against us."

I shook my head, still reeling from all the new information.

Edward had gone to see Jacob.

Jacob and Bella had broken, Edward had gone to see Jacob and then we had left.

There _was_ a connection. Of course there was. I always knew there had to be.

I grabbed the dashboard again.

The pack wasn't with the Cullens. Why not? Had the old animosity between wolf and vampire settled back in so quickly? What had happened between Edward and Jacob? Had Edward asked for his help? Had he refused? Would that surprise me?

And a shameless part of me was asking stupid questions like _Why didn't Jacob go to Italy? Why doesn't Jacob fight for you anymore?_

My chest tightened. I was sure I could feel my ribs pushing uncomfortably against each other. My head felt light and thick at the same time, like I might faint, and I really wished I would pass out. Empty sleep called to me like a siren and I ached to let go, to slump back and fade into a heap of organs, skin and bone, whose only job was to keep breathing. But my brain would not allow it. It continued to function and the questions continued to come.

"Why you? Why not Alice? Why did he want you to stay with me?"

"As formidable an opponent as I am, Alice is stronger and faster, and her other special ability makes her indispensable against the Volturi. Also I suspect..." She hesitated a moment. "I suspect that it has something to do with the fact that I am the only one who would not try to change you myself. If things went wrong."

A bolt of rage shot through me. "Why, because you'd rather I _died?_" I asked viciously.

"I'd rather we all died," Rosalie admitted softly.

I shook my head. I wasn't going to even attempt to process those words. "This doesn't make any sense. He's going to have to do it at some point. So why... Why risk _everything_ over this. I don't understand anything. I don't."

Rosalie looked over at me and the sorrow haunting her beautiful face took my breath away. "I wish I could explain, Bella. I wish I could tell you how love and fear can twist into what seems like madness. I wish I could explain all of this to you, but I don't know that even Edward could."

My eyes narrowed. "Oh he will," I muttered angrily. My cheeks were wet again.

_If he's not ripped apart._

--

It was after two in the morning when Rosalie, finally giving in to my pleading, decided to stop driving and check into a Motel 6 about an hour outside of LA. I knew she had been intending to travel much faster, but several police cars had passed us early on, and she couldn't take the risk of being made to pull over in the daylight hours.

We had only stopped once on the way, after sundown of course, and only because I had threatened to pee on the seat if we didn't.

Rosalie had watched me like a hawk at the gas station. In the ladies room I had managed to get the door closed behind me, but she had drummed her fingers impatiently at the top of the stall, just to make sure I knew she was there. I remembered something Jacob had said. _"Wow, and I thought he was the possessive one. Does she come into the cubicle with you too, Bella?"_ What would my answer be now? 'No, but sometimes Rosalie tries to?'

Rosalie grimaced as she sat down on the unusually small double bed, running a hand over the olive green bedspread, then rubbing her fingers together disgustedly.

"I'm afraid it's not what we're accustomed to, but it will have to do." She sighed.

I smiled. The prolonged bout of hysteria and tears in the car had left me strangely mellow. "I've been accustomed to this level of glamour for 85 of my life. I'll be fine."

"Oh!" Rosalie's eyes widened as she remembered something. "You would be hungry now Bella, wouldn't you?" She glanced over at the digital clock on the night-stand and brought her palm to her forehead. "You must be."

It seemed wrong to think of eating at a time like this, but my stomach was pulling painfully into itself and I had to admit she was right - I hadn't eaten since morning and I was very, very hungry.

I mumbled a "Maybe," and crawled onto the bed. It seemed just as wrong to think of sleeping, but just as futile to try denying that I needed to. The fog behind my eyes thickened pleasantly and I was-

When Rosalie stood up and headed for the door my mind suddenly jumped to attention, realizing this could be the opportunity to make my escape. It wasn't. She left to find food, but she took the room key and locked the door behind her. And I was almost glad she had. I knew I would have felt obliged to make a break for it and in the condition I was in, I wouldn't have gotten very far.

_Please, you wouldn't get very far anyway. Not away from her._

I considered this while I was still relatively alert. Rosalie was, as she had said, formidable. She was strong, blindingly fast and hyper-aware of my every movement. But that was all. Alice was nearly impossible to escape from without help, but Rosalie? Rosalie could be tricked. She was quite as trick-able as any ordinary human being.

I realized grimly that my only way out was subterfuge, and as everyone who knew me agreed, I was a very bad liar. And even if my as yet unspecified plan worked, even if I could get away from her, where would I go? How would I elude her long enough to get on a plane? What if she got on the plane too? My head throbbed in protest to all the unknowns.

Rosalie was surprised that I was still awake when she returned, even though she'd only been gone about five minutes. Her arms were cradling a mass of candy bars and packets of chips.

"Nothing is open," she explained apologetically, letting everything pour out onto the bed next to me. "All I could find was a vending machine."

I raised a heavy eyebrow. "And you emptied it?"

"Well I don't know what's good. They didn't make..." She picked up a candy bar and read from the label "... Twix, when I was still eating."

I took the Twix from her and pulled one of the chocolate fingers from the packet. The overwhelming sweetness of the first bite threatened to rekindle my nausea, but I breathed and waited and managed to eat the whole thing. Rosalie lay down on the bed next to me, the contents of the vending machine between us, and took the golden plastic wrapper in her hands.

"I like the packaging," she said. "It's always so shiny." She looked over at me, smiling almost shyly. "Sometimes at school, back in Forks, I'd buy candy bars just for the wrappers."

I smiled back at her sleepily, clouds forming behind my eyes again. "You guys were always... not eating," I mumbled. "It was so... funny. How did no one ever..."

As I drifted into unconsciousness, all the questions and the panic slipped away like silk on skin, until only one thing was clear in my mind.

I had to get to Italy. Somehow, I had to get to Edward and stop this before it was too late.

--

The dreams were back.

I was standing in a long bright room, one side lined with windows, the other with pictures and shapes.

The tour-guide liked me, I could tell. He was just a child, no more than 10 or 11, and I was wondering how he knew so much about art.

"Prodigies." Edward murmured in my ear. "Their minds are like battle-fields. It's terrifying."

A cold arm snaked over my stomach and the tour group turned in unison.

Their faces were all the same.

"It's ok. He's part of the exhibition," I explained hoarsely.

The noises they made in return meant nothing to me.

I twisted around slowly.

There was a huge gilt-framed mirror at the far end of the hall and something dark was building where my reflection should be.

I took a step forward, dragging Edward with me, and then there was dancing everywhere, corner to corner, wall to wall.

In a sea of couples Rosalie twirled alone, her golden hair curled and loose, fanning out endlessly.

I couldn't see her face, she was too fast.

I pulled Edward's arm further around my body.

"I don't want to dance," I whispered.

Somebody laughed behind me. It might have been the tour-guide.

Rosalie was still spinning through the crowd. A storm was still gathering in the mirror.

I peered into it with veiled eyes, straining to see what was coming. It was just a blur. I couldn't read it.

"I don't want to dance," I whispered again.

The russet wolf tore itself out of the glass with a snarl that made my heart stop.


	8. Chapter 8

When I woke up it was already midday. I groaned. Since vampires didn't sleep, the fact that they sparkled obscenely in sunlight was my one advantage. I'd already wasted at least five hours of it.

Rosalie was arranging the candy bars into neat little piles on the bed, from smallest to largest. I realized how incredibly bored she must have been, stuck in this little room, with nothing to do but watch me sleep.

"You snored a little, Bella," she said idly when she heard me stir. "I didn't think girls snored. I certainly never did."

I eyed her warily. Snoring was the least of my worries. I just hoped my rather intense dream hadn't made me say anything embarrassing in my sleep.

Rosalie was on her feet. "Well! Let's be on our way."

"Do I get to use the bathroom first?" I muttered sulkily. "And if all we're doing is hiding, can't we just do it here?"

She shook her head. "It's best that we get off the continent. How do you feel about Tibet?"

I stared at her. "Tibet?"

"Why not," she smiled brilliantly. "We can go anywhere you like."

I was tempted to say _I'd like to go to Italy actually_, but I knew that wasn't going to get me anywhere. I forced a smile instead. It would be better to play along, to try and lull my lovely captor into a false sense of security.

"I've always wanted to go to Japan," I ventured, thinking it probably sounded a little too enthusiastic.

"Tokyo it is!" Rosalie clapped her hands together. "I've always wanted to go too." She frowned. "There are a lot of places I've always wanted to go. Traveling long distances as a vampire can be rather challenging. Finding appropriately timed flights and such." She brightened. "Which is why we need to get started on our little voyage right away."

I sighed. Once I was on a plane with Rosalie, I was screwed. I needed to delay things as much as possible, while I waited for my moment to come. "How are we going to get to the car?" I asked. This place didn't have underground parking and the motel rooms opened out onto a narrow bright roof-less balcony. "Without people noticing you, I mean."

She grimaced. "Yes, that is a problem. Silly, silly Rosalie. I can't believe I left my balaclava in the car again."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You wear a balaclava?!"

"When necessary, yes." she replied indignantly. She bit her lower lip, wrinkled her nose a little. "I suppose I could wrap the bedspread around myself."

_No, no. No solutions please._

"Why do we need to leave right away? It's not like we'd be able to take a flight during the day anyway."

"That is true, but it would be imprudent to leave the booking part till the last minute."

I thought briefly of suggesting that she let me go to an internet cafe and book tickets online, but there wasn't a person on earth who would fall for that one.

Rosalie sighed. "There's nothing for it." She started tugging at the olive green bedspread, her neat little piles collapsing rapidly.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Rosalie froze and my heart started to thump madly.

There was another knock, louder this time. "Check-out was two hours ago, ladies." It was just the manager, I realized with relief, just the manager.

He banged on the door again. "Come on now, open the door or I'll just use my master-key."

_"Rosalie."_ I hissed when I heard the key in the door. I looked desperately over at her. The room was tiny and as soon as the door opened it was going to be flooded with sunlight. She stared back at me for a split second and then she was gone. It happened so fast that I only knew she had fled to the bathroom when I heard the door close behind her.

I spun around to face the manager. He was short, fat, rather sweaty and very angry. "Place is full. I've just had to turn some folks away."

"Oh..." I glanced quickly over toward the bathroom. "I'm sorry, my friend's not too well-"

"You're gonna have to pay another day anyway. So I guess she may as well puke all she likes."

"Ok well I'll just get her to come down later on and-"

He stepped into the room. "Oh no. I aint leaving without a credit card sweetheart."

He walked over to the bed, rolling his eyes at the disarray, kicked at the Twix wrapper on the floor, muttered "Damn kids."

I swallowed. This was it. This rude, angry, fat man was my moment.

"Ok," I said and I think I managed to smile. "Just let me get my purse then."

I strolled as casually as possible over to the bedside table, made a show of picking up my purse and tried to conceal the fact that I was also taking the car keys. The tiny clinking sound they made in my hand sent ripples of nausea through me. My pulse quickened and I was suddenly terrified. Was I going to do this? Was I really going to do this? I tried to breathe as evenly as I could when I strolled past the manager toward the door, smiling blandly back at him as I opened the purse.

Then I was running. I had slammed the door behind me and I was running down the brick steps of the motel thinking _Oh God Oh God Oh God this will be a miracle. If I don't fall and crack my head open it's a fucking miracle._ And then he was after me, screaming "Stop!" between heavily labored breaths, and I knew it would be only a matter of seconds before Rosalie was by my side, wrapped in the ugly olive bedspread.

But the car was there. It was right there. I was going to make it. The sick feeling in my stomach morphed into a kind of adrenaline-induced high. I pushed the button on the keys to unlock the car, opened the driver's seat door and threw myself in, starting the engine before I'd even closed the door.

And then I was driving, and at a speed that would make Edward proud. My head was light. I pushed down on the accelerator, not daring to look back, no idea where I was driving to. I was aware that this was one of the most dangerous things I had ever done and perversely, the thought that I could die right here in a high-speed collision almost made me laugh.

I didn't watch the signs. I just drove, all the while praying no one had had the foresight to put a GPS tracking device on the car and laughing at myself for being so paranoid.

After about an hour the pounding in my chest started to slow and I let my iron grip on the steering wheel relax a little. I had done it. I had escaped. I was free.

But now what? Part of me was screaming to drive straight to LAX and get on a plane, but I knew that I would find Rosalie waiting and would end up on a plane all right, but not to Italy, _not to Edward._

And even when I did get to Italy, how was I going to stop them? How was I even going to find them? I was trying hard not to admit to myself that I would probably be dead before I ever saw Edward or Alice (_or Jacob,_ a tiny voice insisted) again. I blinked back tears and tried to empty my mind. I had never driven this fast before and I really needed to focus on not ending up in a ditch.

About a quarter of an hour later I passed a pretty little marina, complete with icecream stand, public toilets and payphone. Perfect. The battery on my cell was dead and I hadn't dared try to pick up Rosalie's along with my purse and the keys. I felt around for change in the compartment between the seats. I really needed to make a call.

--

I'd dialed Billy's number so many times in the past, that I still knew it off by heart three and a half years later. I had wanted to try calling Edward first on his cell, but I realized that ironically, since I was always with him, I had no idea what his number was. I very much doubted I would have been able to reach him anyway.

The phone rang seemingly endlessly and I tugged nervously on the cord. It was always a long wait for Billy to pick up, since it took him longer than most people to get around.

Finally I heard his gruff voice on the other end of the line. "Yes?"

"Billy? It's... it's Bella Swa- Cullen." I felt a lump forming in my throat, while I waited for him to respond.

"Jake's not here." His voice was low.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just... Do you know whe-"

Billy cut me off. "No."

Hot tears prickled in my eyes. A long moment passed in silence, while I composed myself. I was surprised Billy didn't just hang up.

"Could you give me Sam Uley's number then?" I asked as steadily as I could.

He started to rattle it off and I realized I didn't have a pen or paper on me. I kept repeating the numbers in my head and hung up and dialed as fast as I could. I wasn't too worried about being rude to Billy. It seemed like I'd already burned that bridge anyway.

Emily answered the phone, and it was such a pleasant shock to her voice that my knees almost buckled under me. "Emily, it's Bella." I said.

"Bella," I could hear the smile in her voice and it warmed my heart.

"Can I talk to Sam please?"

"Of course." She hesitated. "Are you all right?"

I laughed, coughed, sobbed, something. "No, not really."

A moment later I was explaining everything to Sam. Relief flooded through me and a corner of my mind journeyed back to the night he had saved me, the night he had found me only half alive in the woods and carried me home to Charlie.

"I want to help you, Bella," he said earnestly, adding "I want to help _them_ to help you. But I'm not sure what I can do. We barely have enough money between us for one trip to Europe, let alone 20."

"If it's about money-"

"And I'm not sure any of these kids even has a valid passport."

I squeezed my eyes shut to keep in the tears.

"Bella, have you spoken to Jacob?" he asked, something awkward in his tone.

"I... I don't know. We might have." What a humiliating reply.

"Because if he knows, then one way or another he's there already. You know that."

"I know," I said softly. But I didn't. Did I? Nothing seemed certain anymore, not even Jacob.

"I'll try to contact him." Sam said and I nodded silently in reply, like that would travel through the receiver and all the way to La Push.

"Bella?" he asked.

"Yes."

"In the meantime, you need to get somewhere safe. Don't go to Italy. Not until Jake finds you."

"Yes." I said again, before hanging up the phone.

I stood in the booth for a few minutes, closed my eyes and drank in the heat from the sun that pulsed through the glass. My mind and body had been so ravaged by panic that I already felt like sleeping again.

Somebody knocked on the door and I turned around, motioning to the middle-aged woman in the 'I love LA' shirt that I would only be one more minute.

I flipped quickly through the book that was chained to the ledge under the phone.

_John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana._

I would go to John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana and get on the next plane going anywhere but here. For the first time, I was truly glad that Edward had set up a bank account in my name and transferred a ridiculous amount of cash into it.


	9. Chapter 9

The woman in the seat across the aisle glanced over at my white-knuckled hands as they gripped the arm-rests and smiled kindly at me. "Not a good flier, dear?"

I smiled back as pleasantly as I could and nodded.

Yes, that's it. I'm afraid because I'm 30,000 feet in the air in a big metal boat. Not because there are vampires waiting to eat me when I get off. It has nothing to do with that.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the seat, willing my fingers to relax. They resisted me stubbornly.

The earliest flight I'd been able to get from Santa Ana was to New York and even that had been delayed two hours. The wait had been agonizing and when I had finally gotten to JFK at a quarter to one in the morning and they'd told me I couldn't get on a flight to Florence till the next evening, I had almost started bawling right there at the counter.

I had thought briefly of taking an earlier flight to Rome and finding my way to Florence from there, but decided it would probably just take me longer in the end. Or worse, I'd get lost somewhere in between.

The only thing left to do had been to check myself into the airport hotel and collapse in a heap.

--

The dream had started off the same as the last one, but it was closer somehow, more tangible.

The tour guide had grown. He looked nothing out of the ordinary and took no particular interest in me.

I realized the shapes along the wall were faces and I found I knew the painting he gestured to.

Modigliani. A strange cat that hissed at me when I wasn't looking.

Edward was there, pulling me to him and telling me stories, but nobody turned around.

"Don't they realize they're looking at the wrong picture," he breathed coldly into my hair.

I turned slowly, shaking my head, and saw that the russet wolf wasn't in the mirror this time.

He padded docilely around the edges of the room, meeting nobody's eyes, and there was a mess of shards where he had ripped through.

When the dancing started, Rosalie twirled gorgeously through the crowd. But she wasn't alone anymore. Edward was dancing with her.

And I could see her face.

She was pink-cheeked and smiling and her eyes were a brilliant blue.

--

It had been a dream this time, rather than a nightmare, and I had felt oddly peaceful on waking. And in retrospect, I saw that it was good that I had been forced into resting at the airport, because there was no way I was going to be able to sleep on this flight to Florence. It was all too ghastly in its familiarity, too much a mutant echo of something I'd fought so hard to forget.

Italy. The Volturi. Edward. Jacob.

I was leaning forward to pull the paper bag out of the seat pocket, when a light, melodic voice sounded behind me.

"There you are!" The body belonging to the voice crouched down by my seat and I turned my head slowly, half knowing, half refusing to know what I would see. "I've been all through the plane looking for you."

It was Rosalie.

I stared in disbelief at her irritatingly serene face, then swallowed thickly. "What... How did you..."

"Alice answers her cell-phone. It's lucky someone is responsible, isn't it?" She winked at me. Actually winked at me. Then she leaned in closer and spoke softly, "It's lucky you left my passport in the car at John Wayne Airport, too."

I closed my eyes. About halfway to the airport in California, I'd suddenly remembered something Sam had said on the phone. Passport. I had panicked, pulled over and reached into the glove box. My passport had been there, along with Rosalie's and God, why hadn't I just taken hers with me too?

Rosalie straightened up and looked at her watch, all self-satisfaction and condescending cheerfulness. "Well, I must get back to my seat. I think they're showing the movie soon. I'll see you in Florence, Bella."

She smiled sweetly at the business man sitting next to me. "Have a pleasant flight," she said and then she was gone.

Have a pleasant flight.

As if it hadn't already been bad enough. Now all the terrifying, mad, even criminal things I'd done were in vain.

It was over. It didn't matter that I was moving closer and closer to Edward with every second that passed. The plane may as well have been hanging motionless, like a children's mobile hovering against painted clouds. I knew there was no way I was even going to get out of the airport in Florence, not with Rosalie by my side. It was over.

--

I was right, of course. As soon as we were through customs Rosalie was at the counter and booking seats on an flight to Bombay.

"Well it's not our preferred tourist destination, but I suppose that can't be helped at this point." Rosalie's eyes narrowed as she handed me my ticket. Then she was escorting me to the airport lounge, sticking close to the shadows and muttering something about food.

"I don't want food, Rosalie," I said sullenly. "I want to go to Volterra."

She scoffed. "And what on earth would you do there, Bella?"

I stopped walking and put my hands over my face. My eyelids felt like sheets of sandpaper. "I don't know! Something, anything."

Rosalie grabbed me by the upper arm and pulled me along. "Did you ever stop to think that it might be your rashness, your impulsive behaviour that gets us all killed?"

I let out a strange little cry of frustration. "Maybe I wouldn't have to be so impulsive, if anyone ever discussed anything with me first."

"Complain all you like, Bella," she snapped back. "It's not my fault that you decided a 100 year old vampire would make a good date for the prom."

"That's it!" I hissed, whirling around so that I was standing face to face with Rosalie. "I am sick of being treated this way. You think that just because you-"

My lips pressed together numbly when I caught sight of what was behind her.

"Jacob," I whispered, my eyes focussing on the distant dark figure half-obscured by Rosalie's golden hair.

Jacob Black. Ridiculously tall, long hair spilling wildly over his shoulders, eyes fixed on mine. He was striding toward me through the crowd, nothing but sheer rage in his expression. It made the involuntary smile on my lips feel very inappropriate.

Before I could remember how to breathe again he was right in front of me.

"I knew it! I knew you couldn't just be reasonable and wait like Sam told you to. Do you even reali-" He paused, taking in Rosalie at my side. "Wait a minute. You brought her here? Are you insane?"

Rosalie rolled her beautiful topaz eyes. "She brought herself. I was just lucky I could get on the plane at JFK." She shook her head, sighed, pulled her cellphone out of her bag.

Jacob turned his attention back to me. "I don't understand you, Bella. Do you just want to die for him any way you can?"

His words should have hurt me, angered me, anything. But right at that moment all I could make out clearly was an exultant chorus of He's here he's here he's here ringing in my ears.

He was still yelling at me but I was barely registering it.

"Really. Tell me. How could you possibly think that you'd-"

"Shit," Rosalie muttered and it shocked me to hear her speak so coarsely. I turned toward her, coming rapidly back to reality.

She punched three numbers into the keypad and brought the phone to her ear. Her eyes widened as she listened and then she snapped the phone shut so hard I thought it might break.

"There's trouble. Real trouble. We have to get to Volterra. Now."

Jacob brought his hand to his head, grimaced. "There's a bus leaving in about five minutes, but that's not exactly going to have tinted windows and I don't think you'd -"

Before he could finish, I was running to the Hertz booth, pulling my credit card out of my purse as I went.

--

The drive to Volterra was long and unpleasant to say the least.

Jacob watched me get in the back of the car, then got in the front. Rosalie drove.

While she drove she imparted a small amount of information about the state of play with the Volturi.

They were holding Alice. Jane, the tiny elfin creature who appeared so frequently in my nightmares, had fists inside her mind, somehow blocking her thoughts from Edward's.

Everybody was intact thus far. Or they had been to the best of Carlisle's knowledge when he had left the message for her.

Emmett had become separated from the rest.

She wouldn't give me anything else. I suspected there was little else to know and not much more I could listen to without passing out.

--

When we got to Volterra, Rosalie pulled over in an underground carpark next to the bus station. Jacob and I got out and for a second I thought she was just going to drive away without another word.

But then she was out of the car too and handing me her cellphone. She left the engine running.

"Bella just stay here, but out in the sunlight across the street, where there are plenty of people. If you see or hear anything you call Carlisle."

Jacob scowled. "Oh for God's sake. I'll stay with her, obviously. She might piss me off but I-"

Rosalie put a cold hand on his forearm and he flinched. "I was hoping you would..." She looked down.

Jacob stared at her incredulously. We both knew what she had been going to say.

"You think I'm going to leave her alone here to go save a bunch of bloodsuckers?"

She shook her lovely head. Her eyes flickered up to Jacob's and then back to the floor. She sighed. "I didn't think. I only hoped."

"Well you hoped wrong," Jacob snarled back with unnecessary brutality.

"Jacob." I grabbed his arm and he turned back to me. I took a deep breath and tried to sound firm. "I'll be alright."

He roared with laughter, yanked his arm away from me. "You'll be alright? Are you kidding me Bella?"

"Jake, I'll be fine. Really, I'll just sit here and wait and I'll be fine. There's no way-"

"Are you out of your mind?" he asked, his deep-set eyes nearly popping out of his head.

I looked up at him, pleading now, conscious of the desperation flooding my face. "Jake, please. I can't lose... I can't lose any of them. Not like this. Not when this isn't even about them."

Jacob's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed heavily as he took in the implication those last words held.

Not when it's really about me.

He took a step toward forward, rolled his eyes a little, pressed a large hand hotly into my cheek. I breathed in slowly and closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, they were both gone.


	10. Chapter 10

I stumbled out into the sunlight.

I should have been more afraid than I was, but most of me was too consumed by the feeling of Jacob's palm against my cheek to register other things.

It had been the first time he'd touched me since I'd caught sight of him in the airport, the first time he'd touched me since that day by the lake, and it had felt soothing and painful at the same time, like hot water on a bruised body. Jacob patched me up, tore me up. In the split-second it had taken for me to close my eyes I'd seen something in his, and the comfort his warm, rough hand brought had been marred by an ugly little longing in my gut.

I brought my own hand to my still-burning cheek and held it there a moment, closing my eyes again around the memory.

It was only a very few minutes before the sun thawed out the rest of my body and a healthy level of panic returned. Panic for Jacob, panic for Edward that should have come first, panic for everyone else in the distance and somewhere beyond that a muffled terror of being alone here after dark.

My eyes darted around me. I felt unwarrantedly conspicuous, like everybody around me could tell that I shouldn't be here, that I didn't belong. Did they know that there was violence in their safest of cities? That I was the reason for it? Somebody said Buongiorno as they passed me by and I looked away stupidly.

Ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.

The longer I stood out on the cobble-stones the more conscious I became of the bold Tuscan sun beating down on me. It was hot outside, much too hot. But when I shuffled into the bus terminal I immediately felt cold.

I looked up at the clock over the entrance. It was a quarter to two. Five more hours of daylight. Six maybe. Would it take that long?

For them to come back or for them to never come back?

I shivered and rubbed shaky hands along my upper arms.

I should eat. Eating would be wise. There was a kiosk in the far corner of the terminal and I made my way slowly over to it, pointed to a sandwich and a bottle of water - acqua. I had to hold up four fingers - quattro - before they'd let me pay with my card. For obvious reasons, it hadn't been a priority to change my dollars to euros at the airport.

Four sandwiches and I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to eat one.

As I approached the doors and the light hit my face I suddenly turned. There had been an ATM right next to the damn kiosk. Typical. I trudged back over to it and set the bag with the sandwiches and water in it down at my feet. It would be smart to have some cash on me, in case of an emergency.

An emergency in an emergency in an emergency.

The whole way through the transaction I was looking over my shoulder. It would have been embarrassing if anyone had noticed.

Once I had my euros, I hurried back outside, eager to return to light, warmth and relative safety. I walked the length of the square to get to an empty bench and sat down stiffly, pulling the water out of the bag.

It fled icily down my throat.

There. I'm hydrated. Easy.

Eating was going to be more of a challenge. I picked at one of the sandwiches gingerly, then took a bite. It was good. Bready. Very italian.

It made me want to throw up.

I forced down another few mouthfuls, trying to focus only on the freshness of the tomato and the warmth of the herbs. At least eating was something. Concentrating on keeping down food kept my mind off other things.

I'd nearly finished half the sandwich when I noticed a man over on another bench was looking at me. Living with the Cullens I had gotten used to people watching me eat, but this was different. When he saw that I was looking back at him he smiled. He was young, and attractive in a swarthy kind of way, and it might have been a nice smile in other circumstances. Right now it felt predatory.

I looked down and slowly wrapped up the other half of my sandwich, before returning it to the bag. There was a crinkled bus timetable next to me on the seat and I picked it up, pretended to examine it, sounding out the words in my head as best I could, based on my rudimentary grade school Italian.

toscano

tariffa

distretto rurale

When I dared to look up again, the guy was walking toward me. This was a nightmare. Or a joke. A funny nightmare? He smiled at me and said something pretty and completely incomprehensible. I kept my expression as blank as possible.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian." I said, then looked away, annoyed with myself. I was pretty sure that wouldn't do me any good. Italian men were notorious for their penchant for foreign girls.

He was saying something else, possibly in very broken English, and all I could think to do was keep my eyes fixed resolutely on the ground while he spoke. When he finished he was silent for a couple of seconds, waiting, and then out of the corner of my eye I saw him move away.

I sighed with relief, then sighed again a moment later, this time at my own idiocy. He had approached an old lady, who was feeding pigeons with a small child. He was handing her a biro and how had I not noticed the clipboard in his hands?

I shoved a hand angrily back into the plastic bag and retrieved my sandwich.

Just eat and work on not embarrassing yourself.

--

Time passed with excruciating slowness, terror ebbed and flowed through my body. Mostly it flowed.

I hated that I was so useless. Always fought for, never able to fight, sitting here waiting while God-knows-what happened to so much that I loved. The sun was a little lower in the sky now but I didn't dare go inside and look at the clock. The more time that passed the less hope I had to cling to.

They could all be dead right now, I knew this. They could all be ripped to pieces already and I was sitting here stupidly, waiting.

Fear quickly slid into anger. What was I doing? What was the point in even being here? It was too late, too late for me to stop it, too late to matter like Rosalie and Jacob could. My nails dug into my arms. I wanted to rip my own skin off right at that moment just because I couldn't hurt anything else and I was so stupid, stupid.

Breathing came quick and shallow and hot waves crashed around my neck. I couldn't live with this inertia. Anything but this. Anything but sitting in the sun on a park bench with a bag of sandwiches. This sickened me. I sickened me. And this wasn't ok. This wasn't ok. I couldn't do this. Anything but this.

Anything but this.

It took me a moment to acknowledge that I was walking. My feet seemed almost numb. I was hobbling on fuzzy stumps across the little square and my nails still digging, digging.

Anything but this.

My hands were someone else's, connected to a much more capable brain, as they pulled open the taxi door. I slumped onto the back seat and enunciated as clearly as I could, "Palazzo di Priori."

The driver turned around to look at me, brow furrowed crossly. "Clock tower?" he asked in a thick accent.

"Yes," I replied and closed my eyes, lifted a heavy arm to wipe the sweat off my face. I think it was sweat. Sweat or tears or both.

--

I found the grate that led down to the ancient stone sewers surprisingly easily. At least I hoped it was the same one. Then again it probably wouldn't make much difference. Once I was down there I knew I would be completely directionless.

Once I was down there.

With hideous clarity I flashed back to the last time I been here, Edward behind me, Alice waiting to catch me when he let me go. There was no one to catch me now and I wouldn't be much use with two broken legs.

You won't be much use at all, I thought bitterly. And what did it matter? What did it matter if I died in a broken heap at the bottom of that black hole? What difference would it make to anything?

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe steadily, fighting the on-set of hysteria. It hadn't been far, I reminded myself. Just a half a second and I had been with Alice. Maybe the cold stone floor would give me no more bruises than her cold stone arms had.

Maybe.

I swung my legs into the manhole and started to lower myself down, pushing against the edges. I had never had impressive upper-body strength and my arms gave way almost immediately. I fell limply to the ground and the pain of impact was breath-taking. But I was alive. I was movable. Only bruises. Only battle scars that almost made me smile. For an unquantifiable period of time the searing pain down my left side blocked the fear.

But then I crawled forward and it was dark. No, pitch black. Liquid dripped soundlessly onto my arm, slithered down and plinked on the ground. As I took in the fact that I had just jumped down into this hell, that I had no way back up, my breath started to fill every inch of the small space, echoing violently, wall to wall.

I had no idea how long I walked, shuffled really, reluctantly feeling my way along the damp stone walls, trying to breathe quietly, failing.

I had no idea how long I walked, but at some point the air lifted and a grey light filtered dreamily toward me. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or more afraid. I had no way of knowing what I would see when the darkness rolled away.

This hadn't been the right grate. Either that or I had taken the wrong path underground. The tunnel opened out into a wider, brighter one and the light was more yellow than grey now, slipping through creases in the rocky ceiling. The sun. It made sense. I had been vaguely aware that I was traveling uphill as well as forward.

At some point in the distance the tunnel split into two smaller ones, both of which seemed impossibly dark, and when I saw Esme emerge from one of them, I was almost unable to stop myself from running up and throwing my arms around her. I clenched my fists and kept perfectly still in the shadows, straining to see if there was anyone with her.

Before I could judge, her voice carried softly over to me. "Bella?"

Relief quivered through my body and I stumbled toward her.

I was crying a little now and Esme pulled me to her and murmured comfortingly into my hair. It seemed wrong that her arms were so cold, so dense and heavy around me. There was so much about Esme that was soft, none of it in her body.

After a moment I pulled away and stared into her face. "What's happening? Where is everyone?" I whispered.

She smiled a little, though her eyes were sad. "Your wolf friend is mauling Marcus."

My heart thumped in my chest. Jacob.

"Jasper and Emmett are with him and-"

I interrupted her. "You found Emmett!" It was too loud and I sucked my lips into my mouth and looked down.

"He found us," Esme said quietly. She placed a hand on my shoulder as if to steady me. "Jane still has Alice."

"Is she alright?" I whispered hoarsely.

I looked back up at Esme and there was so much pain in her eyes that I could swear I saw tears. "I don't know."

I barely heard the words.

I blinked a few times, struggled to speak. "And Rosalie. Carlisle..." I couldn't bring myself to say his name.

Esme stroked my face with the back of her cold hand. "I haven't seen Rosalie yet. Carlisle and Edward-" she said his name carefully, gently, "are about a quarter of a mile to the left of us, underground." She paused. "They're fighting. I have to go to them, help them finish it and bring them back to Alice."

I nodded, swallowed back a sob.

"You can't come with me, Bella," Esme said softly, stroking my cheek.

I nodded silently, even though I wanted to scream.

She pulled me into her marble arms again and whispered "We will get through this. And when we do, you must be alive."

--

I was walking again. Esme had told me to follow the right hand tunnel, that I would find my way to the surface, back to the street, back to reality. I felt oddly calm now, detached from myself and everything that had happened, everything that was happening. With every step I clung to the ground like I was magnetized. The left side of my body throbbed furiously where I had fallen and I gave myself to the pain, let myself dissolve into it.

It felt like I had been walking for hours when I found a way out, but it couldn't have been long because the sun was still out, just barely. I pulled myself out through a narrow hole in the wall, wincing as my back grazed the rock. I staggered a little, taking in a deep breath of fresh air.

This was a tiny street, half in the shadow of the huge slab of stone above, the other half bathed in a dim glow. At first it seemed to be completely empty. But something flickered in and out of sight in the distance.

It was tiny, agile. I thought it might be a firefly. But as it moved toward me at a nauseating pace, glittering and fading, glittering and fading... I saw that it wasn't one but two. Two brilliant figures tearing at each other.

And one of them was Rosalie.


	11. Chapter 11

It hurtled toward me, Rosalie's hair spreading gorgeously around her, obscuring _its_ face.

The earth was sinking under the weight of its approach. I sank with it.

_Closer, closer._

I couldn't move, couldn't even think of moving. It was above me. It was behind me. It was everywhere.

It flitted around me, the Rosalie-Firefly, twirled in screams and scratches, and then she saw me and time stopped.

Rosalie's eyes were locked on mine and for a moment they didn't belong to her. They belonged to the pink-cheeked girl in my dream, and the human-shaped monster she was dancing with shrieked and ripped at her maniacally.

I opened my mouth and pushed with my throat, but no sound came out.

Then _its_ eyes found me too. Wild, beautiful eyes that thrilled at the sight of me.

Something tripped. The picture was gone.

There was a hideous whistling sound and the vampire was hauled off me almost immediately, digging its nails hungrily into my left thigh as it went.

They were dancing again. The song was interminable, some dissonant jazz improv that didn't know how to end itself. I couldn't hear it of course, but it was there, shaping things.

I fell to the ground, quick wavelets rising and rising in my stomach. I retched and coughed, my face just a couple of inches from the pavement, fell forward a little into the yellow mess I'd left.

For a long time there was only smooth, only wet, only dark grey and darker grey. Tiny patterns in concrete. Small rivers and continents.

_I don't want to dance._

When I looked back up the sun was gone and there were pieces missing.

_Not the same picture. Not the picture on the box._

Where there should have been an arm there was a spray of white shards. Half a mouth half open in a scream.

The eyes belonged to her now, but she only kept one where it should be. The other slept on the ground in a nest of skin and ribbons.

A cracking sound, like an open fire pops. A fan of ribs.

I looked down.

_Torso. You need a torso. Everyone needs a torso._

There were pieces so close I could touch them. I tried to reach, but nothing moved, nothing functioned.

_Why couldn't I move?_

Edward's arms were around me. And he was in front of me too, standing tall, fingers pulling swiftly at shoulder-blades.

_They come apart so easily._

Not Edward's arms. Someone else. Cold. Large stone hands. Not Edward.

I turned my head in little jerks. Carlisle was speaking something at me, but the music was too loud. I opened my mouth and pushed again, pushed out nothing.

--

Silence.

Edward was holding me to him, his mouth on my forehead, "Bella, Bella..."

The street was littered with colored paper. Candy wrappers. Golden hair.

_Always so shiny._

--

It was hours later, centuries later, seconds later.

Esme put her hand on Jasper's arm, reaching across Alice, who stood motionless between them.

"We have to clean this up," she said, so quietly I almost didn't hear.

Jasper nodded stiffly. He turned to Alice, bringing his hands to her empty face, kissing her softly, lightly. The tenderness of it, right here in this dark hall of flesh-and-blood horror was too much, too much, and something like a groan or a choking sound escaped my lips.

Then Jasper was with Esme and they were picking up the pieces, literally picking up pieces of Rosalie, of the thing that had killed her, casting them together, one on top of the other in a big pile of _misc._

Emmett saw too, and he growled thickly, wetly in the back of his throat. "Stop that." he said. The words dripped out like spit. "Stop touching her."

Silence.

I could feel Jasper's mind in mine but it was too thin, metallic, artificial sweetener in black coffee.

Carlisle slid forward, cautious, calm. "Emmett, it has to be done."

Emmett shook his head, smiling horribly, all teeth, all sickness and heart.

_"It has to be done."_ He repeated. "So we'll all be _safe?_" His fist constricted around a clump of blonde hair and blood.

Carlisle glanced over at Jasper, slid forward again. Esme held a lonely hand to her chest, breathed, threw it on the pile.

"Emmett," Carlisle's voice was low. He took another step.

"SHE WASN'T EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

He screamed it, so loud I felt it shake me. Edward's arms were solid, immovable around my quivering body.

And then Emmett's eyes were on me and they were copper, black, red, I couldn't tell. There were words in them that burned but I couldn't look away.

Edward was gone. I spilled onto the pavement like soup from a can.

"Get her out of here. Now!" Edward yelled, his hands pushing against Emmett's chest, restraining him. Carlisle held his arms behind his back, where those desperate fingers still clung to the piece of her.

The pile grew. Soon there would be purple smoke.

There was no warning. I was moving without moving my body. I was being carried and I knew easily who was carrying me.

_It was so warm._

--

The next thing I was aware of was standing in a motel bathroom. Jacob had run a long way. We weren't in Volterra, I knew that much.

I was standing stock still, my eyes fixed on the tiled wall in front of me, barely registering that Jake was behind me, tearing my already shredded, vomit-stained shirt as gently as possible. When he removed the fabric covering the left side of my ribcage I heard him suck in a breath. I guess it looked as bad as it felt.

I stared at the wall while his fingers fumbled with the catch on my bra. Pain flicked across my back like a pair of zippers as the two strips of fabric separated and shifted over my skin. Reflexively I reached up and held the front of the bra to my chest.

Something wet and warm moved over my back. Tissues. Probably toilet paper.

My jeans were torn down my left side. Jacob pulled the pieces apart little by little.

"Jesus, Bella," he hissed as he brushed his fingertips down the side of my left thigh through a hole in the denim.

I felt him stand up behind me. "Wait here."

_Wait here. I wasn't going anywhere. There was nowhere to go, not spatially, not mentally. Nowhere._

I stared into the grout between the tiles on the bathroom wall. He was back before I could understand it.

I turned to face him, still pinning the bra to my chest, staring blankly at the bundle in his arms. He dumped it on the floor and pulled out a large grey tee-shirt.

"Thank God for people who forget to bring their laundry in," he muttered in explanation.

I frowned and it felt strange, elastic, like rubber bands were twisted round my muscles. "You stole it?"

He shrugged, holding the tee-shirt out to me. "I don't think anyone will miss this stuff. Put it on."

I hesitated. Both my hands were busy keeping the bra in place.

Jacob turned around so his back was to me, still holding out the shirt.

"Thanks," I said weakly, letting the bra fall to the floor and slipping the shirt over my head, cringing a little when the cotton fell over sore parts of my body. It came down nearly to mid-thigh on me and I felt more at ease now that I was covered again.

_More at ease._

Jacob took one of the other tee-shirts and ripped it easily down the middle, then ripped each piece again lengthways, till he had four relatively even strips of fabric.

I watched the process with a vacant fascination.

He glanced down at my jeans, torn and bloodied down one leg. "You're going to have to get those off," he said, collecting the leftover cotton from one of the arms of the shirt.

He went to the basin while I edged slowly, painfully out of my jeans, and ran the fabric under warm water, squeezing it into a ball in his fist.

"Hold still," he said softly, kneeling down at my left side.

He brought the cloth to my thigh, brushing it lightly over broken skin. I inhaled sharply. It hurt so much that I breathed out "Stop," despite myself. But they kept coming, the feather-light touches of warmth against the agony in my leg, and when I looked down, I almost collapsed at the sight of the bloodied cotton.

It wasn't that it was blood _per se_, I'd long since learned to control that little aversion. It was that it was _my_ blood and there seemed to be so much of it. Jacob's hand gripped my relatively unbruised right calf to steady me.

"Wait," he said simply and I did.

He came back in with a tiny bottle of vodka. "This will have to do for now," he said, adding with a grimace, "It's probably going to hurt, a lot."

He was right. The alcohol was like a burning blade cutting into my open flesh all over again. It felt so wrong that it was almost impossible to believe that it could be helping and I was glad that Jake had taken my hand before bringing the vodka-soaked cloth to my thigh. My fingers clung tightly to his and I pulled my eyes shut even tighter.

He wound three of the long strips of cotton around my leg, used the fourth to make a knot to hold the make-shift bandage together. He shifted the knot around my thigh, getting me to tell him where it hurt the least.

It was over. He stood. I turned stiffly to face him and for the first time noticed the gash in his right shoulder. It made soft red ripples in his russet skin.

"You're hurt too," I whispered, instinctively reached out a hand. He took it in his before I could reach my mark.

"I'll mend," he said firmly, but his eyes were gentle as he guided my hand back down to my side.

He pulled a pair of blue sweatpants out of the mess of clothes on the floor and examined them. "Lucky these have a drawstring waist." He held them up to me and frowned as they pooled around my feet.

I watched intently while he ripped a few inches off the bottom of each leg.

"There, that should be better with your little doll pins," he smiled at me and I couldn't help but smile back.

It was a mistake. There was something about that small smile that broke an emotional dam in me, and by the time i'd secured the cut-off sweat pants around my waist, pulling the drawstring tight, I had started sobbing, roughly and loudly.

Jacob carried me to the bed, laid me down, poured vodka down my throat that burned and soothed.

He kept his arms around me, his arms that burned and soothed too, while I peered into the darkness, looking for sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

There were dreams, but they didn't touch me.

Just large dark shapes, playground blocks maybe.

Faces that weren't faces.

Butter-soft knives.

It was when I woke up that the nightmare started.

Rosalie, ruined in front of me. Ruined _for_ me.

My throat closed over and my hands grabbed at it, trying to make it open.

It was a privilege when I breathed again.

_What is this? How long does it last? A year? Forever? What is this?_

I had never experienced anything like this, not really. Edward had left me and it had broken my heart but _this._ This was...

I stared into the wall and knew that this was the worst pain I had ever felt.

--

I turned slowly. Each tiny movement was excruciating, in my body, in my heart.

Jacob was beside me. I had known this already. It was too warm.

His eyes were closed, still asleep. Long dark lashes fluttering almost imperceptibly against his russet skin. There were tiny pale squiggles all over his right cheek and one long red scar under his left eye.

I looked down at his right shoulder. It had mended, mostly, but there were still rich dark track-marks in his skin. I reached a hand over and traced them lightly. They faded out around his collarbone and I pressed my palm flat against him, pulled it over his broad hot chest, out to his other shoulder.

When his eyes opened my face was hovering a couple of inches above his. He blinked a little, disoriented or just confused. I stared into his black eyes, the eyes of a boy who had always been able to fix me.

I leaned in slowly and saw them widen before I lost focus. I brushed my lips against his, once, twice. They were soft, pliable and completely limp. I brought my body up closer to his, dragged my palm from his shoulder to his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair. I kissed him again, this time forcing his lips apart, tasting the heat of his mouth. Jacob groaned against me, suddenly brought his hands to my face, leaned in, his lips opening and closing heavily around mine.

I hadn't planned this. I hadn't been capable of planning anything. I was relying entirely on instinct and bruised nerve endings and they told me to ignore the pain in my left side, pull my leg up over Jacob's, take his left hand from my face and wrap the arm around me, arch into him, push into his hot mouth with my tongue.

I was on auto-pilot and apparently so was he. His large hand was under my shirt, pressing into my back, and it didn't matter that the calluses on his fingers dug into bruises and scrapes, it didn't matter that I would hate myself for this when it was over.

I needed him, _I needed him._

All that mattered right now were his quick breaths against my jaw and the way his bare chest pushed against me, burning through the thin cotton of my shirt.

Jacob's mouth moved to my neck, kissing a warm wet trail to my ear where he breathed "God," and I gasped sharply at how something delicious shot through my stomach in response.

That was when he stopped and pulled away.

"We're not going to do this," he said evenly enough, but I could see his entire body was shaking a little.

"Why not," I asked, my chest rising, hitching, falling again.

But it wasn't really a question.

--

Edward came to take me home. Well, not home exactly. Emmett wasn't ready to be in my presence. I was fairly sure I would never be ready to be in his.

But he came to take me home to the US with him. He offered Forks or Jacksonville, but I wasn't sure I could go to either of those places. Going home, going home to a _real home,_ seemed like the most terrifying thing in the world.

Jacob decided to stay in Italy. I asked him why, but there wasn't an answer or he didn't give me one.

I hugged him goodbye at the motel door. He didn't pull me off my feet, left me plenty of room to breathe, and when I pulled away I saw that his eyes were still on Edward's.

"Thank you for taking care of her," Edward said quietly.

"Any time." Jacob's smile was bitter. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

--

I barely remembered getting on the plane. Edward tried to feed me luke-warm macaroni in some god-awful sauce. I chewed. I swallowed. I thought how I wouldn't miss food when I was a vampire.

Someone inside me hated me for thinking that. I closed my eyes and forced the blue eyes and pink cheeks out of my head.

When the hostess took my tray away, Edward pulled out the armrest that separated us and put his arms around me. I shivered. He pushed a button and asked for a blanket.

He wrapped it tightly around me and smiled like he was relieved that it held me together. I smiled back, but I knew my face was a twisted mess.

He reached out and traced a smooth line down my cheek. "I was so afraid. When I knew you were in the tunnels."

I stared at him, unable to speak.

He stroked my face again, sweeping a cold finger over my lips. "And then in the street..." Something horrible flashed through his lovely topaz eyes. "In the street when Caius was-"

"Caius?" I asked and my voice was hoarse. Lips quivering, eyes hot.

"Yes," Edward said softly. "When I saw that he was finished with-"

I leaned in and kissed him hard. Hard on hard, cold on cold. He kissed me back with unusual force and the more I pushed into his mouth the further I pushed the pieces of Rosalie away.

When it was over and my throat had opened again, Edward breathed me in with a sigh.

"I love you," he said quietly against my neck.

"I love you," I echoed against his.

--

A few hours passed without my feeling them. I refused to believe I'd slept, though there were shapes and knives in my memory that suggested otherwise.

Edward still held me through the thin nylon of the airline blanket and I stared down at my new sneakers, half hidden under my new black jeans. I pulled a hand out of the blanket and examined the sleeve of the lilac cotton knit jumper.

_Bella's pretty new clothes._

I had an irrational urge to rip them off my body.

Edward felt me stir and kissed the top of my head. "How do you feel?" He asked earnestly.

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Bad," I finally replied in a flat voice.

Edward drew my face gently toward his and looked searchingly into it. "Bella..."

"It's... ok." I said slowly. "I think it's just... grief."

The word felt sour and guilty.

"How do you... feel." I asked him.

Edward thought for a moment. "Bad," he agreed. But then he added "And lucky."

"Lucky." I repeated in a whisper.

"Yes, lucky. Because Caius didn't take you from me."

That stabbed inside me, a tangible, physical pain.

Edward said something else to me, but I wasn't listening. I couldn't listen. A thought was forming and it was something that threatened to overwhelm me when it came to term.

"Why couldn't you... put her back together?" I tried not to hear the words as I spoke them.

Edward's brow furrowed just a little. Funny how stone could shift so expressively. He took my hand in his.

"Put her back together?"

"The Quileute elder said... He said they needed to be burned, because the pieces could put themselves back together."

Edward's face twisted into his crooked smile. "My goodness, those wolves really are in awe of us."

His cold hand tightened around mine and he spoke softly. "We do have certain regenerative abilities, but once there are that many pieces... There is a point at which it goes beyond what is fixable."

_Beyond what is fixable._

I felt things gathering in my wind-pipe.

"If I'd done something-" I coughed out the words.

Edward brought his hands to my face. "Bella, what could you have done?"

"If I'd let him have me, maybe-" Tears dribbled down my cheeks.

"She wouldn't have allowed that."

"I know," I breathed in raggedly, "But if I hadn't run away and she-"

"She would have come anyway, Bella. When she knew about Emmett. She would have come."

_Emmett_

My throat was closed again now and for a few seconds only wheezing sounds could escape.

"If I'd never met you then," I forced out, barely audible. "If I'd never wanted to have you for myself."

I squeezed my eyes shut, sucked a sob back into my chest, opened my eyes again, looked into Edward's beautiful face.

"I would have been yours anyway," he whispered and the sadness in his voice was unbearable.

--

We did end up in Forks. Edward and Bella, rattling around in the big house where the Cullens had lived.

Edward hunted and held me. I slept, dreamed abstract dreams and started to work on scraping together enough sanity to go see Charlie.

After a couple of weeks the others came home too. Carlisle, Esme, Alice, Jasper.

Not Emmett. Emmett had gone to Alaska. Or that's what he had said he would do. Alice tried to see him but she couldn't. Alice couldn't see much at all anymore.

Every now and then I thought idly of how should think about going back to school soon. Edward asked me about it and I said I would write to them.

I didn't.

I did go to see Charlie though, making every effort to keep the ravaged soul out of my eyes. It was good to see him, good to be smiled at easily and expected to cook.

"Are you happy?" He asked suspiciously while we ate.

"Yes," I lied. I amended it and tried once more with feeling. "I'm happy with Edward."

"Well good," Charlie muttered. "As long as he's treating you right."

I smiled reassuringly. "He is."

"Hey do you ever hear from Jake Black, Bella?" Charlie asked casually, spooning extra peas onto his plate.

I froze, breathed, stabbed my fork into a piece of potato.

"Not really," I said carefully.

"Billy reckons he's in Italy. Now, what on earth is Jacob Black doing in Italy?" Charlie shook his head and smiled. "Kids."

I zoomed in on the empty bottle by his plate. "Do you want another beer?"

He waved a hand dismissively.

"Speaking of being in the wrong place, isn't a little late in the year to be visiting your dad?"

I sighed. "I'm taking a semester off college. I need some... time."

"Time for what?" Charlie was not happy. Talking me into Dartmouth had been one of the few things he'd really liked about Edward.

"Just... personal development, I guess. It's only a semester."

I spent the next twenty minutes placating Charlie, promising him I would go back, see it through, get my diploma. I wouldn't forget about my future.

_My future._

Alice couldn't see it anymore. But Alice couldn't see much at all.


	13. Chapter 13

We were all sitting around the kitchen table.

_Kitchen. Funny how it was just a prop before it had me._

Everyone was assembled, oddly formal, oddly domestic: Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Bella, Jasper, Alice.

Alice. I looked over at her, curious. She usually kept to her room these days, and rarely spoke when she was out of it. Strange for someone whose enthusiastic chattering had always ranged from endearing to irritating. It seemed like Alice hadn't been Alice for a long time.

But she was different today and this meeting had been called at her request. Her eyes seemed brighter than they had been and her lips were taught with nerves.

We were all waiting for her to start.

"After..." Alice looked down at the table-cloth for so long that I wondered if that was all she was going to say.

"After Volterra I think I was..." Her face twisted. "Bruised, maybe. I couldn't... There was so much pressure behind my eyes. I couldn't see anything."

She looked up, briefly scanning each of our faces.

"So I waited. And now I can see again." She looked over at me, then Edward, then Jasper who sat beside her, added quickly "Not everything. Not yet. But enough."

Her fingers twitched a little and it devastated me that something so natural as talking took such a toll on her.

"Enough so that it's time for me to share some things with you all."

Alice looked back over at Edward meaningfully and I felt my skin crawl a little, knowing that he already knew whatever it was she was going to share.

"Emmett is in Alaska. He is not with the Denali clan yet, but he will be. He is safe and relatively stable, but beyond that..." She broke off, Jasper took her hand in his. "Beyond that all I can see is pain."

There was a strange little cry across the table and I looked over at Esme, everything in me aching, thinking how in every way but biologically Emmett was her son.

_And Rosalie had been her daughter._

The inevitable, inescapable guilt pulsed grittily in my veins.

But Alice wasn't finished. "Pain," she said again, but this time her voice held a little hope. "And the fact that he will come back to us."

Everybody smiled in response to this, everybody but me. I would never be able to think of Emmett and smile again. I was glad though, glad and a little afraid.

The other question was there of course, the one that haunted us all and especially Edward. The question nobody had asked since we'd left Italy, because there would not have been an answer. Not the way Alice had been.

Now nobody dared to ask, nobody dared disrupt Alice's fragile concentration.

"Then there is the other question," she said, knowing that though nobody asked it, everybody craved the answer.

"Aro's path is short. He keens toward danger." Alice swallowed, struggled to get the next word out. "_Jane..._ is alive. But she has no interest in us. With Marcus and Caius gone, she wants power. Power over Aro, I think. And I think... she will find it."

Edward was the first to speak. "But she won't come after us. They won't come after us. After Bella." I thought I heard triumph in his voice.

Alice shook her head. "Not unless something changes. They have no interest in us. Only Aro has plans, but those will not... And _Jane -_" She forced out the name again, frowned. "I think... I think she thanks us. For giving her her opening."

I shuddered at the thought of Jane, that tiny nightmare-creature, left alive and growing in power.

"So we're safe." Esme said tentatively. "And Emmet is safe."

Alice nodded. "Yes, and yes. Relatively."

That night, Alice declined Jasper's offer to bring her "take-out" and went hunting with the rest of them for the first time since we'd been back.

She stopped at the doorway when they had all gone through, turned back and took my hand for a moment. "I still can't see you Bella," she said sadly, before stepping over the threshold and into the night.

--

Carlisle and Esme went to California one wet, cold weekend in October and brought back the things from the Santa Cruz rental that had been put into storage after the abrupt trip to Italy. The contents of the New Hampshire house had been delivered the previous week and there were boxes everywhere. I found the routine of unpacking, sorting the items, checking an inventory and so on oddly pleasant. I was the only one who did, and consequently, I did most of the work.

The little bundle of books at the bottom of a box marked 'living room' took me by surprise and all of a sudden the job wasn't so relaxing anymore.

I pulled Rosalie's notebooks out of the box.

Noone but Edward knew what she had written in these, and even he had tried to shield himself from those thoughts. They were private. So private that I should have just packed the books away with the things Esme was sending to Emmett in Alaska and moved on to 'bedroom 1'.

But I pulled one of the little books out of the bundle and let it fall open, as though it was less of an intrusion if I didn't choose the page.

I sucked in a breath when I read the words.

_'bella'_

_not beautiful_

_but more beautiful than _

_this blackened thing_

_trimmed with _

_gold and silver_

I closed my eyes. I couldn't see to read more anyway, other things distracted me now. Rosalie's lovely, pensive face looked up, a pencil scratched on paper. I flicked quickly to another page and opened my eyes again.

_i'll go back_

_maybe i'll go back_

_maybe there are babies in heaven_

I slammed the book closed, forced it back into the bundle and dropped that back into the box I'd been emptying.

My hands shook, bile rose in my throat. I had to get out of this house.

--

I took Esme's car, drove to La Push for no reason at all. There was nobody to see there, except maybe Sam and Emily and the idea of being around their happy domesticity right now made me feel physically sick. Or it would have done if I hadn't been constantly on the verge of throwing up already.

Minutes passed and I counted them, again for no reason at all. Minutes passed and I found myself following the familiar road to Billy's house. Billy. The last person I wanted to see and the last person who would want to see me. But there it was, I was driving to Billy's house.

I stopped the car about half a mile down the road and rested my head on the steering wheel for a moment, trying to understand what I was feeling.

_What is this? How long does it last? A year? Forever? What is this?_

Then I was half-walking, half-running, sweat dripping down my neck even though it was cold, my lungs responding negatively to the physical exertion and all I could think was _Where the hell are you going._

It wasn't long before I stopped short and brought my hands to my face, physical pain curling into the other pains in my chest. I knew exactly where I had been going. Sneaking breathlessly to the garage where Jacob wouldn't be.

I stumbled back to the car and went home.

--

When I got back to the house it was almost night. Esme had seen me running to her car and everybody had been concerned, especially Edward, especially Alice.

Alice was lying down in her room now. Carlisle explained that she had exhausted herself trying to see me for the last hour and she needed rest. I pictured Alice, tucked up in bed, and wondered how on earth she could rest if she couldn't sleep.

_How do you escape when you can't sleep?_

Edward hushed them all, protected me from the questions, took me to our room without trying to make me eat.

I took a shower and the warm water made me sob, twisted the tap round to cold, still sobbed.

Moments later I was with Edward again, sort of trying to cling to him, I realized, but my fists were just full of his shirt. He brought his hands to my face and wiped at my tears, while I babbled "Don't let me go. Edward don't let me go."

"I'll always be here," he whispered, cupping my face and looking into my eyes.

"That's not what I asked for," I hissed. I grabbed his arms, pulled them around me. "I want _this._ Holding me, not letting me go. Never let me go, Edward. Never-"

He kissed me, maybe to stop the hysterics, maybe just because he wanted to. I didn't care, it didn't matter. I kissed him back forcefully, bringing my hands to his shoulders, barely noticing the shocking cold in my mouth. I wanted to kiss him forever, like I didn't have to breathe either, like there was no space between us, like there never would be.

_Never_.

I brought my hands to his chest, still kissing him, tugged at silky fabric, fingers flipping over buttons, pulled the shirt open, pressed against his icy chest. When I pulled back, looked into his beautiful eyes, they were dark and wild. I took my hands off his body for just a second, just the time to pull my tank top over my head, and then I was kissing him again and I had been naked underneath the tank top and this was further than we had ever gone, much much further.

I pushed my chest into his, feeling the cold rush through me, making me tense and ache in strange places. When I reached down, still kissing him, almost _angrily..._ When I reached down between us and pulled at the button on his jeans, I knew somewhere inside me that I was being reckless, insane even, but I didn't care. It didn't matter. I pulled roughly at the zipper and pressed my body into him, feeling him cold and hard against me.

_Cold hard harder than hard._

I ground against him, sucking his lower lip into my mouth and sliding my hands up his now-bare arms, feeling a chill run through me when his hands moved from my neck, diving quickly, icily down to the small of my back. Edward clutched at the flesh there, his stone hands no doubt leaving bruises, but I didn't care. It didn't matter. I ground against him again and he moaned, "Bella..."

I knew what he was going to say.

Defiantly I reached a hand between us, tried to push it down the front of his pants.

He yanked it away violently.

"Bella stop this," he breathed between clenched teeth.

I couldn't. I couldn't stop, even though a part of me knew I was hurting him. I just reached for him again crushing my lips against him, anyplace I could find, whispering heavily "Edward, I want you"

He shuddered, pulled his face away from mine, breathed "Stop this," again.

And then I was on the other side of the room, gasping at a stabbing pain in my wrist, a worse pain somewhere in my chest.

"Get out of here," Edward's voice was low and rough.

"Edward..." I was too winded to say more than that. He was hunched over, gripping at the bed post like he was in agony.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" He screamed, and his head shot up, twisted slowly in my direction.

His eyes were pitch black.


	14. Chapter 14

Carlisle had set my wrist. It was fractured and now hung stiffly in a sling.

_More broken bones for Bella._

I had to be setting some kind of record.

Esme had caught me when I had burst through the door and started running down the hallway half-naked, bawling my eyes out like a five year old.

She had taken me to her room, wrapped a blanket around me and gone to get Jasper to try to calm me down. I had only cried more when I had seen him and begged him to go to Edward instead.

I had been terrified of what he must be feeling and now nearly thirty six hours later I still was. Jasper had gone with him into the woods, taken an unscheduled hunting trip. They still weren't back.

Broken bones mended, thirst could be quenched. But would that be enough? I knew Edward well enough to know that hurting me... Well it hurt him a lot more.

So I waited and worried for them both, felt bleak and ashamed, a little hopeless. But I still closed my eyes at the thought of those angry kisses, of so much of my bare skin so near to Edward's.

_Cold hard harder than hard_

There was no pain, physical or otherwise, that could ever make that memory ugly for me.

--

When they finally returned they were both calm, both beautiful and topaz-eyed. Jasper went to find Alice, and the ever-ready guilt stabbed in my chest, because it was my fault he'd been away from her for so long, when it was already my fault that she was weak in the first place.

_My fault and my fault_

Edward and I were alone in the kitchen. The sun was rising softly, blearily in the window panes and I went to him immediately, hugged him tightly with my good arm.

He seemed surprised, which made me want to laugh or cry or both.

I smiled at him and kissed him, a light kiss to his cold lips, trying not to remember the more passionate ones we had shared before it had been too much.

Edward looked down at me, his lovely eyes still wide.

"What is it Edward?" I teased, "Did you think I was going to stop loving you over this?" I waved the arm in the sling at him.

He considered the flippant question far too carefully, finally conceding, "No. I thought you might be more afraid though."

I shook my head and smiled at him. "Nope." And I meant it. I wasn't afraid. I had never truly been afraid of Edward, even in the beginning, when perhaps I ought to have been.

He looked down and I realized he was unconvinced.

I reached up and stroked his jaw. "Hey, it's ok. I'm not upset."

He closed his eyes, brought his hand up to mine, pulled it down and held it tightly between both of his. "You are a strange girl, Bella." He looked back up at me, his brow furrowed. "You do realize that you should probably be disgusted?"

"Disgusted? With what?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.

"With our sad attempt at intimacy," he said in a strange voice, the crooked smile on his lips, something else entirely in his eyes.

I shook my head in disbelief. "It wasn't sad, Edward. It was perfect."

He laughed a little at that, even though my expression was deadly serious. I had meant what I had said.

"It was perfect, yes," he agreed, "right up until the part where I almost bit you."

I flinched without really knowing why, looked over at the wall, not sure what to say for a second, then suddenly absolutely sure. I swallowed, leaned into Edward, freed my good hand from his and placed it on his shoulder.

"Would that really have been so bad?" I asked, my voice barely even a whisper.

Edward stared down at me for what seemed like forever. When he finally spoke it wasn't to answer my question, rather to ask me one of his own.

"Bella, would you still have married me, if I'd refused to turn you?"

I stared back at him, twitching around a little smile, trying not to let that question be too earnest.

"No." I said firmly.

He sighed heavily. "I suppose your answer should have been obvious."

"Yes it should have been," I said warily, "We made a deal."

"Yes we did," he said softly, touching his fingers to my cheek.

I shivered a little, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Bella..." I held my breath between my name and the next words he spoke. "Would you still be mine, if I told you I would never do it?"

I continued to stare at him, unable to answer. An answer would make this too real.

Edward thought I hadn't understood the question and I was thinking quickly how frustrating it must be for him, not being able to read my thoughts, thinking how if he could read them, that would be the thought he would have heard and _how would that help him anyway?_

I was dimly aware of the unnecessary clarification: "If you knew I would never make you like me?"

I shook my head a little, more in an attempt to clear my mind than in reply. "Is this a test?"

He didn't answer me.

"I tried to convince myself Bella," he said, stepping away from me, bringing a hand to his brow, his beautiful face wretched. I thought of earthquakes. Stone crumbling to dust.

"I tried to let your desire be fair argument. But part of me has always known that I can't do it. And that I will rip apart Carlisle and Alice and anyone else before I let them try."

I breathed out, in, out. One of my exhalations turned into _"Why?"_

Edward looked back at me. I saw the confusion in his face and I realized I was smiling. I was smiling a highly inappropriate broad smile at the absurdity of the question now forming in my head.

"Are you worried you'd love me less if I was beautiful?" I wanted to accompany it with a giggle.

"You _are_ beautiful." He smiled sadly and lifted a hand, moved toward me. I stepped back before he could touch me.

_"If I was beautiful like you."_ I hissed.

"Bella, this has nothing to do with the way you look. It's what you are. It's _who you are._ It's what's inside you that made me lov-"

I laughed, but what came out was more air than sound. "What's _inside me,_ Edward? _Seriously?_ Are you saying you won't want me because I won't be full of special blend anymore?"

His eyes narrowed. "If this was about your blood, don't you think I would be welcoming the chance to get my taste?"

I swallowed, a little flummoxed by that one. He had a point. I ignored it, gave myself over to hysteria instead.

"Well maybe I'll do it anyway. Maybe I'll go to Italy. Find Aro before Jane gets to him. Have him do it."

"Then you'd break my heart." Edward said quietly.

I was silent for a moment, feeling the floor reaching out to me, linoleum calling to me while my mind made a wind that gushed in my ears.

Then something occurred to me and I moved to him, wrapping my arms around his neck with new confidence. "I'd break your heart. Because you have _feelings_ Edward. You love me, you can _feel_ that."

"Yes," he breathed coolly against my face, letting his forehead rest against mine.

"You are not a monster, Edward. I am not afraid to be like you."

He stepped back when he realized what I was trying to do. I let my arms fall weakly to my sides.

"Perhaps I am not a monster." His voice was a hollow sigh. "It is comforting to think that. But I am not the same as I was. Edward Cullen was a new person, Bella. Bella Cullen would be too." He shook his head, his eyes pleading. "You have to understand. I can't bear to take Bella Swan away from the world."

Frustration gripped me. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to make some angry joke.

_Well then why did you want me to take your damn name so badly?_

I looked down, feeling my lips knock limply against each other as I spoke. "You don't want to lose me. So you want me to get old. That makes sense, of course. You want my organs to rot, my brain to putrify. You want my body to fai-"

"Yes! I want that." Edward interrupted me and my eyes shot up to his, fresh shock rippling through my body.

"I want that because it is part of who you are. A part of who I need you to be."

"You want me to be ugly, then dead?" I asked incredulously. "You want me so much that you're going to insist on losing me?"

"I will never truly have you Bella, unless I accept to lose you."

Edward spoke firmly, but then his topaz eyes became soft as they were bright.

"I will keep you safe. And I will love you, Bella. Only you. Till the end and beyond that. As long as I exist I will love you. And you will always be as beautiful to me as you are right now, as you were when when you were seventeen."

I laughed bitterly, which was probably cruel given the look in his eyes, the tenderness in his voice.

"That's... that's ridiculous. Cataracts aren't beautiful, Edward. Skin like tissue paper isn't beautiful. Senility is definitely not beautiful."

I breathed rapidly as a grotesque future spread out before me. "Pretty quickly it would get to the point where we couldn't even be seen together without someone thinking we were guests on the Maury show. I... You can't..."

I couldn't finish, I was close to hyperventilating now.

"Edward, _please,_" I breathed, stepped unsteadily toward him, pressed my good hand to his chest.

He was cold as stone under my palm.

_Immovable, unyielding._

I was really crying now, struggling to form useless words through the heaving sobs that felt like they were tearing at my lungs.

I took a few steps back, turned away from him, whirled back around.

"THANK GOD YOU HAVE MONEY, EDWARD."

I screamed it and it burned my throat.

"YOU CAN BUY ME A FACELIFT WHEN I'M FIFTY."

--

It was later and he was holding me. My head was buried in his chest under my hair.

"You _lied_ to me."

The sound was muffled but he heard.

"Yes," he said sadly, "I suppose a part of me did."

--

We went back to New Hampshire after Christmas, but I didn't re-enroll at Dartmouth. I got a job working at a diner in the city, even though we didn't exactly need the money. It just seemed like the thing to do.

There were times when I looked at Edward and knew with perfect certainty that I loved him, absolutely, irrevocably, just as I always had. There were also times when I looked at Edward and felt a sick inevitability gnawing in my stomach.

One night in early February, he found me crying in the small square garden of our pretty brick house. He kissed me, held me close to him and told me he'd always be here and I knew that it was true.

But when I asked him to let me go, he did.


	15. Chapter 15

When I left Edward I assumed I would dream of him. My beautiful, impossible Edward. And I did most nights.

But more than anything I dreamed of Rosalie.

Sometimes they were nightmares, the pure agony of _that day_ looping endlessly, even sicker, even blacker, distorted and feverish.

Sometimes they were just dreams, pure agony also, Rosalie reading me children's stories, Rosalie, blue-eyed and dancing in the sun.

Either way I woke up to a wet pillow.

--

It had been months before I had actually left. Months of crying in the garden, probing questions and strange looks from Alice, unbearable patience from Edward.

September 12th. The day before my 24th birthday.

--

The diner I had worked at in New Hampshire was part of a chain and I had managed to get transfered to a branch in Illinois.

I couldn't bring myself to go see Charlie. It was cruel, but I couldn't face him. I couldn't face anyone. I didn't want to have to go back to Forks and announce to the general populous that they had been right, I had been too young, it had been a mistake.

I didn't want to call Renee and tell her _"I fucked it up just like you did, mom"_, call Charlie and tell him _"I left him just like mom left you."_

So I sent letters to Charlie and emails to Renee, saying everything was fine, business as usual, Bella and Edward and the Cullens. I found it was easier to lie in writing.

Strangely, the only person I felt comfortable talking to was Angela Weber. Perhaps not so strange though, considering that Angela was a sane and trustworthy girl who had grown into a sane and trustworthy woman.

I hadn't spoken to her in years, but I knew I still had her parents' number scribbled in an old diary somewhere. I called them and they gave me her details; we wound up talking on the phone most weeks.

It was good talking to Angela, therapeutic really, even though for obvious reasons I couldn't share the whole story with her.

I found ways around it. It was surprisingly easy to create everyday metaphors for the fantastical chaos of _My Life with Vampires and Werewolves_, to express in ordinary human terms the awful things I was feeling, the wrenching choices I'd had to make. So many seemingly impossible decisions and they had all led me to this small apartment in a state I'd never seen before.

We talked often and well, and I learned, amongst a million other things, that she was doing a post-graduate degree in biomedical science, and that she and Ben were getting married, though they hadn't set a date yet.

So she promised to tell no one about my love-life and I promised to come back to Forks for the wedding, whenever it would be.

--

September again. The final moments were a year further away and it still hurt to think of Edward. But this wasn't the same as that nightmare time when he'd left me. I was older now and the decision had been mine. I knew that he still loved me and I still loved him. And I knew that it would always be that way. Deep down I suspected that one day I would be able to smile again, really smile, even at the memory of _him_.

So much was changing in me. I thought of what Edward had said on that dull morning, that morning that had changed the course of my life.

_Bella Cullen would be a new person._

Maybe Bella Swan would be too.

--

All the girls at the diner were a good five years younger than me, except the manager who was in her forties. I was well liked, but not exactly popular. I had never been all that good at bonding, not even with age-appropriate friends.

I took my wedding band off in January and one of the girls, Sandy, talked me into going out with her older brother, whom I'd met at my first work Christmas Party. It went nowhere as I had known it would.

There was another man who came in regularly and always spent a stupid amount of time ordering, chatting me up. I went out with him a couple of times too.

Richard.

I took him back to my flat one night. It hurt a lot and I was embarrassed by the blood that told him it was my first time, grateful that these were my sheets, not his.

I didn't see him again except to bring him coffee.

--

The morning after I lost my virginity I took a deep breath and wrote to admissions at Dartmouth, explained my situation and how I hoped to be able to finish out my degree. They accepted me even though I had missed the deadline for enrollment, I suspect because my academic record was so good. I paid for my final semester with the money I had saved working at the diner and having little to no social life.

I had always worked hard at my studies - let's face it, I was a bit of a nerd really - but this time I threw myself into my courses with vigor and dedication that were impressive, even for me. I topped two out of my five final exams, and was shamefully pleased with myself.

Still I didn't tell anyone I was graduating, didn't attend the ceremony. I just took my diploma and went back to Illinois, back to the diner and another, even littler apartment.

Not for long though. The invitation to Angela and Ben's wedding arrived when I had only been back a week. The date was September 30th.

I had expected to feel only dread.

_Forks. Love. Weddings._

But I was surprised to find that I wanted to go. I wanted to see Angela again, properly see her, and celebrate this happiness with her. I smiled to myself and it felt sincere.

--

The wedding was gorgeous. Less grand than mine had been with Alice at the helm, but gorgeous and very intimate. They had written their own vows and when Ben mumbled his nervously, missing out an entire line, Angela smiled. I knew they would be happy for a long time. Maybe forever.

Mike Newton was there, taken now, but still a little bit into me I thought and a little too pleased to see me without Edward. That might have irritated the old Bella Swan, upset her. But I found it was actually nice that he even cared at all. That after all these years and all my rejections of him, our friendship still meant something to him.

I spent most of the reception talking with him and his girlfriend, who was tall and blonde and wore a pretty dress and reminded me a bit of Rosalie.

--

I had initially planned to slip in and out of town as inconspicuously as possible, but the unexpected pleasantness of the wedding had left me feeling serene, strangely powerful, maybe even up to the challenge of seeing Charlie.

Maybe even up to the challenge of explaining why I wasn't wearing my ring.

My decision was made when I reasoned with myself that he would undoubtedly find out I had been in town. If I didn't go and see him before I left... Well I'd just be a real asshole.

He was shocked and very happy to find me waiting on the porch for him when he came home from work the next evening.

"Hey Dad," I smiled, reached out to hug him. "I missed you."

And it was true, I really had missed him.

I didn't cook for him - it was late and he had already eaten at the local pub after work. I suspected that had become something of a habit. We just made tea that only I drank and sat in the living room, talked with the TV on mute, Charlie occasionally sneaking glances at the game.

He had asked right away how long I was planning to stay and when I'd told him I would probably leave tomorrow, he'd insisted I drive to the only hotel in Forks and get my stuff, spend the night in my old room, so we could at least have breakfast together before he went to work.

It didn't take long for him to notice the absence of the ring. In fact, I think he may have noticed it out on the porch, since he hadn't mentioned Edward or the Cullens once.

"You never were much of a one for jewelry, were you Bella," he said, not-so-subtly gesturing to my bare left hand.

I smiled sadly, looked down at my fingers, felt the familiar ache in my chest, realized it was almost comforting.

"Edward and I split up."

"Oh, Bella, honey, that's... I'm so sorry." He said, and the sentiment behind the words was genuine.

"It's ok, Dad, it was..." I looked up guiltily, "It was actually a while ago. I just didn't want to share with anyone. Not right away."

I didn't tell him just _how_ long ago it had been. Keeping a secret like this for two years was a little insane.

He nodded understandingly, reached across the couch and squeezed my arm.

There was a quiet moment after that. I sipped my tea.

After a while Charlie said, "All I can say is, it's a blessing you two ended it before there were children involved."

_Oh Charlie, you will never know how far from being a real concern that actually was._

I nodded in agreement.

It had been easy to tell Charlie, and I wondered what I had been so afraid of. After all, he had never been much of a talker, not one prone to dissecting the emotional ins and outs of things. He knew not to ask me too many questions.

The subject was changed quickly, painlessly, and I found myself telling him about finally finishing up my psychology degree at Dartmouth. He beamed with pride, chided me for failing to at least bring my diploma and graduation photo to show him. I didn't dare tell him I hadn't even attended the ceremony.

I was just about to head to bed when Charlie mentioned that Jacob Black was back in town, working freelance as a mechanic out of Billy's old garage.

Suddenly my face was hot and my hands were shaking.

Charlie noticed. He raised an eyebrow. "You ok?"

I nodded, trying to pretend I didn't have a violent urge to run out the door, run back to Illinois and never come back. I wanted to get as far away as possible from Jacob Black, from everything that the thought of him was doing to me. Either that or go to my old bedroom and cry. One or the other.

I chose the second option. That way Charlie wouldn't have to know how freaked I was. And I wouldn't hurt him by skipping town before breakfast.


	16. Chapter 16

I overslept the next morning, something I very rarely did. I think it had something to do with having exhausted myself crying half the night.

_Crying over nothing for God's sake._

When I did wake up, Charlie had already left for work, and it was looking like a pretty nice day. Well, relatively speaking. This was Forks after all.

Charlie had left a note on the kitchen table saying to call him at work when I was leaving and he'd get his deputy to look after things while he took me to the airport.

I glanced at the rather forlorn box of corn-flakes next to the note, sighed, feeling bad for missing breakfast.

I could stay one more night. For Charlie's sake.

I called him and told him not to eat at the pub after work. He was pleased.

--

The day wore on, hideously slowly. I took my old red truck into town, getting a hell of a shock at the sound of the engine roaring to life after so long. I bought some things to cook with tonight, and some basics with which to restock Charlie's fridge and cupboards.

And then I was back at the house and everything was in its place. And I was just bored.

I thought about calling Angela, then remembered she was on her honeymoon of course.

Mike Newton and his girlfriend had flown back to Boston immediately after the reception.

It struck me that I really didn't have any friends in Washington.

_No. No friends. Unless you count the best one._

--

By one o'clock I couldn't take it anymore. I let the same logic that had led me to Charlie lead me to La Push: Jacob would hear that I had been in town, I'd be an asshole if I didn't...

Of course it would have been just as sensible to assume Jake would understand if I just left him alone, to think he might prefer not to see me anyway.

But I was on my way now, and I felt physically incapable of turning back.

As I drove the old road in the old truck, I remembered when I had seen Jacob in LA, for the first time in so long. I remembered how I'd stared wordlessly at him and wished I'd had something to say. I tried to think of an opening now.

--

I stopped a little way down the road from Billy's house, rested my head on the steering wheel like I had done three years ago, again trying to understand what I was feeling.

_What is this? How long does it last? A year? Forever? What is this?_

Then I was walking, slowly, tentatively this time, not wanting to run into Billy first, not wanting to draw attention to myself, so that I would still have the option of chickening out and driving back to Forks.

It wasn't long before I was standing outside that garage that I hadn't seen in what? Could it really be seven years?

I was standing in that familiar doorway, taking in the sight of Jacob Black, his hair somewhere near shoulder-length now, his broad dark back to me, hunched over the hood of an expensive looking car.

I wished there was some way to be sure my voice would be steady when I spoke.

"So you go to LA to study literature to come back to La Push to fix cars."

_Pretty good, a little corny maybe, but it'll do._

Jacob spun around with unnatural speed, letting whatever he'd been holding drop into the labyrinth of car innards with a loud clanging sound.

I smiled at him. He stared at me like I wasn't real.

As we stood there, each waiting for the other to say something, I was struck by the fact that I was now 26 and Jacob looked 25 just as he had when I'd last seen him. I was a year older than him again.

_Sort of (again)._

He took a step toward me, frowning now, his eyes narrow and hard.

I shivered, though it wasn't particularly cold.

"Good to know you're pleased to see me," I mumbled lamely.

Jacob was right in front of me now, the same extraordinary heat rolling off his body. I was still shaking a little.

He reached out a hand, grazed my forearm with the tips of his long fingers.

"You're warm... ish." He stared at me in disbelief. "And your eyes..."

I smiled, understanding what he was getting at, but he was stepping away slowly, his eyes still hard.

"It's not a trick or something is it?" He asked, skeptically.

I shook my head, stepped back over the threshold of the garage, out into the bland Washington sun.

"Look mom, no sparkles."

I resisted the urge to add jazz hands to that.

Jacob burst with laughter then, happy, beautiful laughter, stepped out into the meagre sunlight with me. His dark eyes shone too brightly and I thought there might have been tears in them.

He picked up my left hand, ran his thumb over my bare fingers, then gave me a shy, distrustful look, like he couldn't be sure what they meant.

Then he was pulling me along, still holding my left hand.

"We need to go to the house so I can show you to Billy. He hasn't been able to sleep right for the last couple of years." He shot me an admonishing look, then laughed again.

"What? Because of me?"

"Because we all figured..." He stopped and turned around to me, still holding my hand in his. "Bella, you were gone for three years. Didn't see Charlie, didn't see Renee. We all assumed he'd changed you. It was hard for some of us." His voice had become tight. "It was hard for Billy," he said quickly.

"Why?" I asked, before my brain could process what a stupid question that was. "Well why especially," I qualified, adding "He sort of hates me, know you."

"Billy doesn't hate you, Bella." Jacob shook his head, grinned at me, started walking again. "I mean, I'm pretty sure he thinks you're a massive idiot, but he doesn't hate you."

"Ok then..." I trailed off, not sure whether I should be insulted or relieved.

"It's mostly that Charlie is his best friend, and he couldn't even tell him what he knew. Well," he was grinning at me again, "What he _thought_ he knew, as it turns out."

I sighed. Would the day ever come when I wouldn't feel so guilty about _everything?_

_Rosalie, Emmett, Edward, Alice, Charlie, Billy Black._

Jacob smiled back at me, squeezed my hand a little, and I didn't feel guilty about him, even though I knew I absolutely should.

It was almost an effort to feel anything but happy in his presence.

--

After seeing Billy - who had been gruff, but not entirely unfriendly - Jake insisted on driving straight over to Sam and Emily's place to "show" me to them too.

Our conversation in the car rapidly became awkward once I told him why I was here.

Angela's wedding inevitably brought up the subject of relationships and before I could stop myself, I had asked Jacob if he was seeing anyone. I wished I'd asked something else, _anything else._

"And what would you say if I said I was?" Jacob asked in turn, his eyes on the road.

I swallowed, tried to sound nonchalant. "I'd say... that's nice."

He nodded, smiled an unnervingly smug smile. "That's nice." he echoed.

We were quiet for about half a minute, before he glanced at me, still smiling, said "I'm not seeing anybody, by the way."

"That's nice," I said automatically.

_Mortifying._

I cast around quickly for something else to say.

"Oh! How's Amy?"

"Amy's engaged!" He smirked. "And you thought she was my true love."

I felt myself blush, "I didn't-"

He waved a hand, silencing me. "You were half right, we did go out. I mean, we were together for a while. She came to see me in Italy, brought me home to LA. We were pretty happy, actually. She's amazing."

"She is..." I was surprised I could get the words past the bile rising in my throat.

_Jacob wasn't seeing anybody but he had moved on. Of course he had moved on. Why shouldn't Jacob move on._

"So what happened?" I asked, shooting for casual interest, trying to ignore the sudden aching in my ribs.

He shrugged, hung a right. "Life happened, I guess. She was through with her degree, I still had a fair bit to go on mine. She took a job with a New York based Chamber Orchestra. We were long distance for a couple of months, but she ended up going on a National tour, met a cellist who swept her off her feet."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and part of me was, I was sure.

"So was I," he grimaced. "It's not fun, getting dumped. And it wasn't something I was used to." His eyes flickered down for a moment. "Well apart from... But that wasn't really..."

There was no need to finish, we both knew what he meant.

--

When we got to Sam and Emily's, Sam was out, but Emily called his cell and he showed up within fifteen minutes. Then he was calling Quil and half the pack was showing up, with guests in tow. It seemed that my not being a "bloodsucking fiend" was an excuse for a party.

I was sitting on the sofa, trying to have some kind of conversation with Leah Clearwater. She was looking out the window darkly, with eyes that said _I wish I was anywhere but here._

She got up abruptly when she caught sight of Emily, who was ushering a little black-haired girl toward me.

"Bella, this is Sarah, my eldest girl," she said, smiling fondly down at her daughter, then rolling her eyes a little at me. "She insists on being formally introduced," she explained, before returning to her muffins.

"Hello Bella, I've heard so much about you," the tiny girl said, with adorable precision.

I smiled, and tried to come over as surprised and impressed as possible. "Really?" I asked.

She bit her lip, looking worried now. "Well not _really,_" she said. Then she smiled again. "But my Uncle Jake told me your name means beautiful!"

I felt a stupid flood of pleasure pool in my chest, tried not to blush.

Little Sarah leaned into me, her eyes bright. "_My_ name means _princess!_" she whispered excitedly, before running back to the kitchen.

I laughed, and when I looked over at him, Jacob was looking at me.

--

It was six o'clock and I realized Charlie would be home soon. I said goodbye to everyone, got a kiss out of Sarah, and Jacob drove me back to my truck, down the road from Billy's place.

He asked how long I was staying, I said I was probably leaving the next day.

He asked if I needed a ride to the airport, I said I'd be fine.

I felt like crying when he said ok.


	17. Chapter 17

I didn't end up leaving the next day, even though I had fully intended to. I didn't call work either, even though I was aware that pretty soon I would be risking my job.

For the first time I asked myself why I even wanted to work in a place like that anyway.

I couldn't find a good answer.

--

A week passed and I was still in Forks.

There were messages on my cell phone from Hannah at the diner, the last of which was undoubtedly letting me know I was fired. I didn't care.

I was doing laundry every night and wearing the same clothes every day. I didn't mind.

--

I had cooked for Charlie every night that week and it had been equal parts relaxing and eerie, kind of a time-warp, everything the same except that high school was long over.

_High school and Edward and Bella, long over._

The weather was the same, always a little rainy, cheap with the sunshine; my truck was the same, always threatening to give out, always getting me to La Push.

Jacob had done a double take when he had shown up at Sam Uley's place to help move a wardrobe downstairs, and seen me sitting there, drinking lemonade with Emily. But then he had joined us, saying something about waiting for Sam, looking over at me occasionally through dark lashes.

It hadn't been long before Sam had come in, bringing little Sarah and two littler boys home from school. Jake and Sam had moved the wardrobe, Emily had overseen the complex manoeuvre. I had kept Sarah and the boys occupied, hunted around for plastic cups for their lemonade.

Sarah had taken a liking to me that I found strangely flattering, even though small girls made rather high-maintenance friends. She pretty much monopolized me all afternoon, reading me a story she'd written at school - about a Princess, naturally - and asking me every question that came into her head; favorite color, pencils or markers, chocolate or strawberry, and did I know she had all the Harry Potter DVDs?

When Emily had finally dragged her away to do her math homework, Jake had grinned at me, said "You know, I was her favorite before you came along."

--

On Friday night Charlie was going to Billy's to watch the game with him, and he told me to go out, have fun, I'd done enough looking after him for the week. I didn't know what he meant by "go out, have fun" exactly. Did he expect me to go drinking and dancing in Port Angeles with all my friends?

I wound up cooking again, but for Jake, in the extremely ill-equipped kitchen of his apartment just out of La Push. Jake's place was a small square in a big block, a tiny part of a rather insalubrious whole. The biggest room was the bedroom and that was swamped by the bed, of course.

Jacob nearly bumped his head coming through the doorway into the kitchen and I had to laugh.

"How does someone so big live in a place this small?"

I frowned, added more salt to the tomato mixture in the pan.

"With difficulty," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "It's all I can afford at the moment. When I first came back to La Push, I moved in with Billy again, but it got to be a bit much. I'd kind of learned to value my privacy."

I nodded, trying not to wonder what he meant by _privacy._

"So why did you come back to La Push at all?"

"There was some trouble last July," Jacob dipped a finger into the pan and I swatted his hand away, glared at him.

"You'll burn yourself, idiot."

"Pssch," he scoffed, dipped his finger in again, sampled the sauce.

He sucked his finger for a moment, considering. "It's good," he said.

"Of course it's good," I retorted indignantly, "I know what I'm doing." I reached across the counter for the mixed herbs I'd had to bring over myself. "Trouble?"

"What?" Jake asked, then he shook his head, like he had been thinking of something else.

"Oh, last July, yeah. There were some vampires around."

I froze. The wooden spoon pushed into the bottom of the pan.

Somehow I'd thought that leaving the Cullens behind meant leaving the monsters behind too. Of course I'd been wrong.

_Of course._

Panic had hit me like a freight train at the word _vampire_, but Jake seemed utterly unruffled.

"Well they weren't really in the area, closer to Seattle. But not every town has its own personal pack of protectors, so, you know."

"So you came back to help out? Because they were killing people?"

I felt sick, stared into the tomato mixture that suddenly looked too thick and too dark.

"Yeah, they weren't the friendly type. It was a bit pointless actually, turned out it was done and dusted by the time I arrived."

Relief trickled into my stomach.

"But you stuck around."

"Yeah"

"For no good reason."

He shrugged. "Did you have a good reason for serving people coffee in Illinois for two years?"

I took his point.

--

"Well, that may just have been the best chicken and tomato... something, I've ever consumed."

I smiled. "I'm going to have to agree with you. I kick ass."

Jacob grinned back at me. "Wow, somebody grew some self esteem."

"Oh I always had self esteem," I joked, started clearing the table. "Now I'm just flat-out in love with myself."

He laughed, brought the rest of the dishes the ridiculously small distance to the sink, turned the tap on.

"I'll wash, you can dry," he said, handing me a tea towel.

Jacob smiled to himself.

"When I was like five, mom used to wash and I would dry." He rolled his eyes, "My sisters were useless."

I smiled, picturing a tiny Jacob Black, fumbling with plates and cups, intense concentration on his face.

And then I was struck by the fact that Jake never really spoke about his mother, not to me anyway. A second later I felt a pang of sadness, realizing that it was probably because I had never really asked him about her.

For a brief moment, I tried to imagine what it would be like, just not having a mother anymore. Renee's constant emails sometimes annoyed me - especially now I'd had to tell her about Edward and she tried daily to drag details out of me - but I knew I was lucky to have them. I knew I was so lucky to have two parents who still lived and breathed and loved me, in their own different ways.

And yet I was the sad one. I had been the teenage introvert, the one who had so much trouble embracing life.

Jacob had always been happy, always my personal sun, even though I recognized now that a part of him must have been missing all along, always would be.

_I hadn't been the only one with a hole in my chest._

"Tell me about your mother, Jake," I said quietly, running the tea-towel over a plate.

His hands stopped moving in the water for a second, then he smiled, handed me a glass to dry. "What do you want to know?"

I took the glass, shoved the tea-towel into it, bit my lip. "Just... Just tell me some things about her."

--

Jake usually worked weekends, but he made an exception, since these were to be my last two days in Forks. My attempts to leave had been getting ridiculous, so this time I'd booked a flight well in advance. By two in the afternoon on Monday I'd be back in Illinois.

We spent half of saturday and all of sunday together, and I thought to myself that Jacob really may as well have been working, because all we did was sit around and talk, and we could have done that in the garage.

We talked about a lot of things; how we were both treading water in terms of our career paths, how everything cost more these days and the kids at the local store had no respect, laughed at how old we sounded.

Jake told me about the months he'd spent in Italy - cycling through the Tuscan countryside on an old bike he'd found at a village dump, picking fruit and fixing tractors just to get enough cash to eat - and I felt sad that having been to Europe twice I had never had the chance to actually take anything in.

On Sunday morning, I woke up knowing we would have to talk about Edward. Jacob hadn't brought it up, but if he was going to be my friend again - _my friend_ - and I was fairly sure by now that he was, I couldn't keep that huge question between us, even if he wasn't going to ask it.

I tried, as delicately as possible, to explain how Edward and I had reached a stalemate in our relationship, and how on one level the decision had been mine, but on another level it had been his.

Jacob listened carefully, his expression even, but he flinched visibly when I said I still loved Edward and I always would.

"And if he changed his mind..." He asked, when I was finished.

"He won't."

"But if he did," Jake asked slowly, warily, "Would you still want him to do it?"

_I don't know,_ a little voice inside me insisted.

But when I looked Jacob in the eye and said I wouldn't, it didn't feel like a lie.

--

We were walking along the beach at La Push, the constant drizzle barely touching us, Jacob's warm hand around my colder one. It had made my heart jump a little when he had taken my hand, just like he always had, easily, like it was a matter of course.

Sunday afternoon, and I was that girl again, the clumsy seventeen year old, walking on the beach with her beautiful, stupidly tall best friend, not understanding that she was falling in love.

Except this time I did understand it. I had understood it for so many years and yet it felt new today, brand new and a little dizzying.

I tugged gently, bringing Jacob to a stop. I kept his hand in mine, brought my other one to hold it too and he turned to me, his face broad and open and happy.

_That was happiness._

"I always wanted to tell you, but it was never..." I looked down at his wide rough palm, stroked at the creases and calluses. "I really love your hands," I said, looking back up at him with a small smile.

Jacob grinned, but there was something almost frightened in his eyes. Slowly he brought his other hand to my cheek, slowly the smile faded from his face.

"They love you too."

I stared into his eyes that were truly black now, blacker than black, and suddenly, horribly, I was thinking of Edward's eyes, that awful-perfect night when he had screamed for me to get away from him.

I felt my heart beating messily, pulled on Jacob's hand, drawing him to me.

My eyes closed with a sigh.

There was a long still moment, rain drops started to collect in my hair.

"Are you even going to kiss me?" I asked, finally letting my eyes flutter open. My voice sounded a little more whiney that I would have liked.

Jake laughed lightly. "Why would I do that," he said, but before it could hurt his lips were on mine.

It was soft, unbelievably soft and warm.

I pulled up on tip-toes and he leaned down to me, my hands on his shoulders now, his arms circling around me.

--

I went back to Illinois the next day, packed up the flat, brought my few possessions back to Forks, moved into my old room at Charlie's place.


	18. Chapter 18

A week later and I was in the garage, trying to read the paper, mostly just watching Jacob work. I'd poked around earlier for our traditional warm soda, but apparently he'd graduated to beer.

It had been a week since the kiss on the beach, a week in which there had been many more, gradually less guarded, gradually less shy.

Jacob looked up from the bonnet of the BMW he was working on, catching me in a pensive moment.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, adding, "You look sad."

I sighed, stood up and dropped the paper back on the chair. I tried to smile.

"I think I'm thinking that one day you could meet some random girl and imprint and I'd have to go start some kind of a club with Leah?"

He chuckled, walked over to me, put a hot grease-stained hand under my hair on the back of my neck. "Not gonna happen."

I closed my eyes a moment, leaned back into his hand a little.

"Hmm, I don't know that I should be taking your word for it. Maybe I should be keeping you away from pretty girls. And ugly girls." I frowned, thought of Quil's pre-teen girlfriend, brought my hands up to Jake's arms. "Or you know, the female of the species in general."

Jacob snickered. "And what if my wolfy soulmate turns out to be a guy?"

"Oh right. Of course. It's all falling into place. The pretty hair, the strange desire to wear my shoes when you've been drinking."

He laughed, dropped the wrench he'd been holding onto the chair behind us and brought that hand around to the small of my back, walked me over to the car, pushed me against the side of it, kissed me in a way that made my thighs shake a little.

When he was finished, he stared meaningfully down at me, whispered "It's really not going to happen Bells."

"You're not going to turn gay? That's a relief."

Jacob laughed again. "You know what I mean." He breathed it against my cheek and I tightened my grip on his upper arms, let out a little sigh.

Then he was kissing me again, leaning heavily into me, and I was gasping every time his mouth left mine, thinking how if anyone walked in right now this would be very embarrassing, then thinking _Who the hell would walk in anyway. It's sunday. Billy? Billy's in a wheelchair, he doesn't walk anywhere._

All these stupid thoughts were pouring in and out of my mind, somewhere below, far far below the hot liquid knowledge that nothing could ever feel as good as being pushed up against this stranger's car and kissed endlessly by Jacob Black.

But there was something I had to say to him. Something that, impossible as it seemed, was more important than the kissing.

I brought my hands to his chest and pushed gently, breathed "Jake, wait" when his lips moved to my neck.

He pulled away a little, looked down at me, questioning.

I swallowed, trying to control my breathing enough to say it.

"Jake if it does happen... If you do... Don't suffer over me. Not anymore."

He smiled at me, leaned forward again, kissed both my cheeks lightly, "Not even if I want to?"

"Not even if you want to," I said firmly, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him to me again, kissing him deeply, desperately.

--

That night Jacob and I had sex. We had sex about a half a dozen times actually, as though we were trying to catch up.

Sex, more sex, talking, Jacob teased that I was an idiot for holding out on him for so long, I giggled into a pillow, sleep, kisses, more sex, a (naked) trip to the fridge for water and cold spaghetti, talking, more sex etc.

Silly really, because I knew we could never catch up. There would never be enough times that he was inside me, that I heard him whisper how he loved me, how this was the most perfect thing he'd ever felt. There would never be enough times that I bit down on my lower lip, clutched at his shoulders, hands slipping in sweat, while tiny fires showered through my body and I thought, somewhere in a distant part of my mind, how this was the strange sweet flip-side of the venom in my palm.

When it came to this, when it came to Jacob and Bella and _this,_ demand would always exceed supply, for both of us, always.

--

I was nearly at the door when Jacob woke up.

"Where are you going?" he asked, a little accusingly.

I smiled. "Morning breath."

Within seconds he was at my side and I was in his arms. "I don't care," he said, his voice low and husky. I started to let myself melt against him, but then I he brought his mouth to mine and I wrinkled my nose.

"Well, I do," I pushed at his chest lightly and he broke away from me. "And would you put some pants on, Jake?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips, shaking my head in mock exasperation.

He grabbed me again and pulled me to him, sliding his hand under the huge Jacob-sized shirt I was wearing. One hand came to rest on my hip and the other at the back of my upper thigh. "Why don't _you_ put some pants on," he grinned down at me.

I swallowed, feeling suddenly light-headed.

I leaned into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling myself up to whisper in his ear. _"Jake..."_ I breathed. I could feel his heart beating madly now, one hand moving slowly to the small of my back. I smiled to myself and leaned in further, my teeth brushing his earlobe as I spoke.

"I call first use of your toothbrush."

Jacob stopped dead. He pulled me into a bear-hug, lifted me off the ground, laughed into my hair, set me down again.

"Sure, sure," he said in defeat, pulling on his jeans.

He took my hand, led me to the bathroom, muttered affectionately "Such a girl."

--

The year I was 27, Jacob and I took a trip to Japan. We started in Tokyo, snaked our way down through Kyoto, Osaka, all on a shoe-string budget of course.

In Kyoto I tasted some of the worst things in the history of my palate - fermented bean curd soup, for one - and some of the best - tempura vegetables like fish and chips, out of newspaper by the side of the road.

(And boiled rice for breakfast. Even when we got back to La Push, Jake would sometimes insist on eating boiled rice for breakfast, with chopsticks no less.)

There was one thing in particular that I would never forget: The sight of Osaka Castle Park in cherry blossom season, soft hot kisses in a snowstorm of pink.

--

Even though we talked about living in a million different places, we ended up back in La Push.

Jake still worked as a mechanic, but he also wrote articles and literary reviews for magazines, the local paper, even the Seattle Times. It was funny to watch him when he was struck by some brilliant idea, hastily dropping the screwdriver he'd been holding and scribbling something down on a piece of paper, grease-stained hands smudging the page.

As his profile and, by extension, his earning capacity grew, fixing cars took a backseat. But he would never stop taking jobs, tinkering in Billy's garage, never completely.

I got a job at the local community centre, working with troubled kids from the reservation. I was overqualified and the pay wasn't great, but I was happy. I was doing something worthwhile.

--

The day Jacob came to me and told me he hadn't phased in over a month and never would again, I made an excuse to go into town and sat in the truck and cried for nearly two hours straight.

I cried because it was so easy for him to make that choice. Because there had been a time when I would have done anything to be immortal, to be with Edward, irrevocably, forever, and now Jacob was giving up immortality, so easily, so freely _to be with me._

And not forever. Not anywhere close to forever.

I sobbed into the steering wheel because he was willing to live and die for me, and that was something I had not been able to do for Edward. I felt like a monster, always loved but never truly loving, never whole for anyone.

I cried for all the years I'd spent being selfish and vain. _Vain._ The word scratched at me cruelly, because I was Bella Swan, the girl who rarely wore makeup and lived in jeans and sneakers, but I was _vain._

All of these things became crushingly clear to me that day, and when I got home I found Jacob, threw myself into his arms that were no longer burning but still so warm, kissed him deeply and told him that I loved him, that I'd always loved him and it wasn't just enough, it was _more_ than enough.

Enough for forever, _more than enough for a lifetime._

Jacob had touched light fingertips to my puffy eyelids, and smiled gently, eyes glistening with almost-tears, and I had never felt anything so wonderful as his happiness, his happiness that had always made mine come alive.

--

We never got married, I never divorced Edward. This was mostly because paperwork didn't matter to me and it didn't particularly matter to Jacob either, partly because the thought of tearing any more pieces of myself away from Edward was unbearable, and partly because far far in the back of my mind I kept thinking, _Jake needs to be free, just in case, just in case._

--

I was 31 two days before our daughter was born. After the birth I had slept and Jacob had sat by me and held her, and then when I woke we sat together, holding each other and staring down at our tiny little person.

She was born with a thin crop of pitch black hair like Jacob's and skin the colour of pale coffee and ochre, something between russet and bone-white. On the rare occasions when she opened her eyes, I caught a glimpse of a bright, mid brown, that shone almost orange under the hospital lights.

I reached down and brought a finger to her soft cheek.

_Not orange. Topaz._

I was being silly of course. Her eyes were ordinary, only a slightly deeper brown than mine, but just for a second, in the light, I could swear I saw flashes of topaz.

"Can we call her Rose?" I whispered.

Jacob smiled and brought a finger to her cheek as well. "Rose is nice." he agreed.

I leaned over and touched my lips tenderly to his.

"Thank you." I said earnestly, staring into his dark eyes for a long moment.

We both knew that Rose was not just a name but a homage. A quiet gift to the beautiful one who had died for my humanity.

_Rosalie._

I only wished she could have known the path I would take.


End file.
